


Son of a Beach

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring, Case Fic, Gen, Hallucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 7x12 "Time After Time" The boys get a call to a remote resort, fun in the sun, bikini babes and something just plain wrong. Hurt/limp/comfort/protective!Sam/Dean</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Started this one on a prompt from the lovely Trishy! She's quickly becoming my Muse's partner in crime. :P Thanks darlin'! If you folks would like to follow her on Twitter…and trust me you do cause she's a riot and a doll: TMATEOTB
> 
> *Paka Ki resort is not a real place. I made it up. It was however the name of my very first cat when I was a baby in Hawaii. :D My mom used to send me outside to call her just for kicks. I couldn't say her whole name…only…Kaki. Picture year old me walking up and down the neighborhood with Mom yelling "COCKY" at the top of my lungs. XD Yep. My family is that kinda family.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

_**CHAPTER 1** _

"You seem…different." Sam looked sideways at Dean as they drove. "You feeling ok?"

Dean spared him a glance from the road and smiled. "I'm good, Sammy."

Sam kept watching him. He didn't know what it was but something was indefinably different about his brother since his trip back in time; something other than the period shoulder holster he now insisted on wearing and the few times Sam had caught him quoting The Untouchables under his breath in the bathroom. The real life Elliot Ness had made one hell of an impression on his big brother. He couldn't put his finger on what was different except that Dean seemed less tortured the last few days. It was a relief to see the smile on his face again after so long. He'd thought it would never come back after Bobby. Hell, even he was having trouble smiling. The deviled angel on his shoulder had taken to promising he could bring Bobby back. It was tempting enough that Sam was having difficulty some days keeping the crazy quiet.

A muffled phone ringing in the glove box snapped him out of his thoughts. Sam popped it open and pulled out Bobby's cell from where it lay next to their Dads. He shrugged at the questioning look on Dean's face and opened it. "Hello?"

"Hey I…wait, who is this? You're not Bobby." The voice, a man's, sounded accusing and worried.

Sam's stomach took a roll at once more having to impart this news. "Bobby…passed away last month. We're friends of his. If you need help…" Sam let the sentence hang and listened to him breathing hard on the other end of the line.

"Shit. Shit." The man paused, took several more deep breaths and Sam distinctly heard a sniffle. "He's dead? Damn I…he was a good man. Ok um, I suppose, being his friends and all you're like, you know like he is…was. I need help."

Sam had watched Dean tense up as he spoke and saw him now relax with effort, knuckles loosening from their grip on the wheel. "Tell me what you've got."

"Right, well, I don't really know. I mean I know." The man paused. "My resort, well it's my Dad's resort but I manage the place, anyway we have this ghost. He's harmless you know? Never hurt anyone in fact he's kinda cool. Oh! I'm Jack by the way. Sorry."

"Okay, Jack slow down. My name's Sam." Sam waited for him to take another breath. "So you have a harmless ghost. Why do you need help?"

"Cause he's started hurting people man. He's been here as long as I've been alive. That's how I met Bobby." Jack chuckled. "He came here years ago and was gonna banish the thing or something but after he met him, I guess you can meet a ghost right? Anyway he met him and decided to leave him alone. Said he was happy where he was."

"Bobby left the ghost?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Yeah. He's harmless man. He just likes to play pranks on the guests and honestly, we love it. The staff I mean." Jack laughed now. "He always goes after the assholes. Sorry."

Sam snorted. "Don't worry about it. What's changed exactly?"

"He's going after Staff now and it's not funny anymore. People are getting hurt. Jo-ellen got tossed down three flights of stairs yesterday. I don't get it. Why would he change?"

Sam sighed. "Jack, sometimes ghosts just…forget who they were. Usually in fact, and they start hurting anyone who gets in the way. Tell me where you are and we'll head your way."

"Hawaii." Jack replied and Sam's jaw dropped.

"Wait, wait…Hawaii the island Hawaii?" Sam asked and slid a sidelong glance at his brother who was slowly shaking his head at the idea of a plane ride.

"Only one I know of dude." Jack laughed again.

Sam spent another ten minutes on the phone with Jack, cementing the details and where they would pick up their flight before hanging up and looking over to the not amused look on Dean's face. "It's a job."

"I'm good." Dean growled. "Freakin islands." He huffed out an irritated breath. "Although, beach bunnies Sammy." Dean did smile now and looked over in time to see Sam roll his eyes and he chuckled. "Where we catchin' this plane?"

"St. Louis. Tomorrow." Sam looked at his notes. "It's called the Paka Ki' Resort; means beautiful sunrise he says."

"Dude, I could make so many jokes with that name." Dean smirked.

"But you wont right now." Sam scowled at him. "It's on the island of Kauai and Jack said it's off the beaten path. We're gonna have to…"Sam paused and looked over to gauge just how badly Dean was going to take this.

"Have to what? Spit it out." Dean glared.

"The only way in to the resort is by…helicopter." Sam said and waited, studiously looking at his notes though he could see the clenching of Dean's jaw in his peripheral vision.

"You wanna say that again slowly? Like I'm stupid?" Dean fisted his hands on the wheel.

"It's not a long ride, Dean." Sam assured him, resisting the overpowering urge to laugh at the look on his brother's face. "Jack said like twenty minutes from the airport."

Dean's glare deepened, staring out at the road. "Only takes twenty seconds to end up a splatter on the side of a freakin mountain. This better be one hell of a resort."

"Dude. It's Hawaii." Sam said and smiled. "How can it be anything but?"

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean leaned heavily on the wall of the little shed at the end of the airstrip…well they called it an airstrip. If you asked him it looked more like a short drive into the freakin ocean but no one was asking him. Sam was over talking to the pilot of their soon to be deathtrap; a refurbished army helicopter that looked like it had last flown in a world war. If Sam thought he was getting in that thing, his little brother was gonna end up on the ground staring up at the tropical sun with two black eyes. "No way…in hell." Dean muttered and gave a cheery smile to Sam along with his favorite finger when his brother looked over at him.

Sam frowned. He knew that look and took a deep breath. After the plane ride, where Dean had filled several air sick bags through the hour long turbulence, getting him into the helicopter was going to be a challenge. His older brother's face said he was spoiling for a fight. He walked back to where Dean stood, still pale, as the pilot climbed into the chopper.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean smiled a crooked smile at him. "You know the only way you're getting me in that thing is feet first, right?"

"Dean. It's perfectly safe." Sam saw Dean flinch as the engine started behind him and felt the brush of air on the back of his neck as the rotors started to turn. "It's only a twenty minute ride."

Dean shook his head. "Dude I'll walk."

"Right. Through rainforest and up over a mountain?" Sam laughed. "Stop being such a baby and get in already."

"I can hurt you." Dean glared as Sam grabbed his arm and gave a tug.

"Feel free. After we land." Sam pulled him toward the chopper, feeling the pull as Dean tried to hang back.

"Seriously, man. I can climb. Nice hike…could be good." Dean didn't like to admit just how badly the thought of flying in that thing turned his knees to jello.

"You hate hiking; and camping." Sam snickered and pulled open the helicopter door, pushing Dean ahead of him. "Get in, close your eyes and think of beach bunnies."

Dean let himself be pushed into a seat and snarled at the highly amused grin on the pilots face. He got one hand in a deathgrip on his seat and the other subconsciously rubbing his stomach against the somersaults going on in there. Sam climbed in next to him, slammed the door shut and slid one arm over Dean's shoulders as the helicopter began to lift from the ground. On a normal day, Dean would have shrugged him off with a glare but he was too focused on not focusing on the flight to care. Dean groaned when the chopper climbed and banked hard.

"Son of a bitch he did that on purpose." Dean muttered under his breath, eyes closed tight.

Sam chuckled. "Dude if you'd open your eyes. It's freakin amazing." Sam watched the rainforest fly by so close beneath and felt his own stomach take a quick turn as the helicopter climbed suddenly and swung up the dizzying side of a green cliff face. "On second thought, don't look." He said with a smirk. They climbed higher and higher and finally emerged above the cliff and over the other side. Laid out below them was a pristine stretch of beach but not like any Sam had seen before. It was black. Set back from it and in among massive old trees sat the resorts many buildings and bungalows. He could see straw roofs peeking up from the tree cover and here and there as they descended to the one clearing near the largest building people wandered and walked. "Wow."

"What?" Dean convinced himself to open his eyes and looked out the window beside him. He saw sparkling black sand, bright green trees and impossibly blue water. He was impressed. He slammed his eyes shut again as the helicopter banked and he was suddenly looking straight down at the ground. "Holy crap."

"Almost over." Sam reassured his brother, feeling the shoulders beneath his arm quake as the chopper dropped dramatically. Minutes later it settled to the ground and Dean heaved a great sigh of relief when the engine shut off.

"Open the door and lemme outta this death trap." Dean demanded, desperately in need of firm ground beneath his feet. Sam chuckled and slid the door open, hopping out with his brother fast behind him. The pilot came out after them and went to the cargo hatch, flinging it open and tossing their duffels on the grass.

"Should be someone here any minute to get you guys to the hotel." He said and smiled, looking amused as Dean knelt and all but kissed the ground.

"Thanks." Sam looked over to the main building, rising above the tree line at the edge of the clearing and saw a golf cart appear and speed toward them. "Looks like our ride." He said to his brother who stood and scowled.

"I want my baby." Dean grumbled, watching the little cart as it neared and finally slowed to a stop near the chopper. The man who got out was young; short, blonde hair and wire glasses over a darkly tanned face and he smiled and waved as he climbed out of the cart.

"Aloha!" He called and jogged over to them. "You must be Sam and Dean. I'm Jack."

"Sam." He put out his hand and shook Jack's. "This is Dean."

"Build a freakin rode man." Dean said by way of greeting but shook the offered hand and gave him a thin smile.

"No way for a road to get out here really." Jack said with a smile. "There's a track that winds up and around the mountains back there but it's pretty much only good for goats." He laughed. "Come on. Get your gear and I'll get you settled in."

They stowed their gear on the back of the cart and got in. Jack turned the car back to the resort with a wave to the pilot and looked at the two men with him. "Ok, I've got you a bungalow. It's isolated from the other staff so you'll have some privacy. Um…there is just one thing." He tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. "See, the resort has a strict policy that Staff can't room together unless they're…well…couples."

"Excuse me?" Sam looked over in surprise.

"Couple. You know, married. Um…so the only way I could bunk you two together without sending up flags, and you said you wanted to blend in was…"

"Wait we're not guests?" Dean asked and gave a pointed glare to Sam. "Something you forgot to tell me, little brother?"

"The ghost is only attacking Staff." Sam told him. "So it only made sense to go in as Staff."

"Uh huh." Dean sat back and crossed his arms. "You're the wife."

"Dude!" Sam put a hand to his head and glared at Jack. "You couldn't come up with something other than…than this?"

"Sorry." Jack said sadly but he smirked. "My old man's a real stickler for that one and people would have noticed, you know?"

Sam sighed, resigning himself to the never ending jokes at his expense his brother was no doubt storing up. "What are our Staff positions?"

"Ah, well you're going to be on the grounds keeping team." Jack said to Sam with a smile. "Dean you're going to be on the Physical Instructors team. You have uniforms waiting for you in your bungalow." Jack turned the cart around the hotel structure to the back, following a path lined with shells. The area was truly beautiful. Palm trees rose up and shaded most of the path they rode along. They reached a line of Bungalows and passed among them, through a thick stand of leafy trees and then into a small clearing with a single bungalow at its back. "This one's yours." Jack pulled up beside it and gestured. "You guys go get settled in and meet me in the main hotel in half an hour."

"Right. Come on honey." Dean hopped out and grinned at the disgusted groan from Sam. "You can cook me some dinner."

"Gonna kick your ass before this job is done." Sam muttered and climbed out, taking the keys from Jack and turned his back on the chuckle.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam stood on a veranda at the back of the hotel with Dean and Jack and a satisfied smile on his face. Dean's wife jokes had continued until they'd entered their bungalow, dropped their bags and seen the uniforms waiting for them. Sam got typical overalls, short sleeved and practical. Dean on the other hand, was currently standing with a disgusted look on his face in skin tight t-shirt, flip flops and form fitting shorts covered in Hawaiian flowers.

"Dude this is not cool." Dean groused and tugged at the leg of his shorts, trying to make them longer.

"Not so sure I'm the wife in this marriage." Sam chuckled with a pointed look at Dean's backside.

"Knock it off, bitch." Dean glared death at him and turned the look on Jack. "You seriously make people dress like this? What the hell man?"

Jack shrugged. "All the Physio staff wear that. No one's ever complained."

"Not where you could hear." Dean grumbled.

"I wanted to give you the best chance to find the ghost right off." Jack nodded to their uniforms. "Last four people who were attacked were working on the grounds or training guests on the beach. There's a cardio class on the beach right now." Jack smiled at Dean. "Follow the white shelled path and it'll lead you right to them."

"Cardio." Dean shook his head and stopped. "Are there girls?"

"It's an all female class." Jack grinned.

"Awesome. Have fun pruning the bushes, Sammy!" Dean waved and jogged off in his ridiculous shorts.

Sam shook his head, amused. "What about me?"

"Couple of the groundsmen are working at the back of the resort trimming back the mangrove vines." Jack pointed and Sam nodded. "Just head that way and you'll find them."

"Got it. Make sure Dean doesn't run out of those shorts huh?" Sam chuckled and left Jack laughing behind him. He enjoyed the walk through the treed lanes. The Palm fronds above filtered the heat making it comfortable amid the dappled sun on the dirt track he followed. It was quiet and peaceful and he took a deep breath, savoring it. The sound of voices drew him and he found three people sorting through tools in the back of a small truck.

"Hey there!" A young woman waved at Sam. "You must be the new guy!" She held out a hand and shook his firmly. "I'm Sarah. This is Ray and Al." She pointed at both men. "Jack give you the whole tour thing? Seriously that guy loves giving the tour." The men laughed and Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"No, I think he was busy." Sam shook both men's hands.

"I think it's just awesome they hired you and your husband." Sarah grinned, dewey eyed. "I mean really, it's just so sweet."

"Uh…yeah." Sam blushed and ducked his head.

"Who wore the dress?" Al asked and got an elbow in the gut from Ray.

"Shut up, idiot." Ray told him and smiled back at Sam. "Ignore him. His mouth engages before his brain."

"Does not." Al glared at Sam and grabbed a pair of clippers from the truck, stalking off into the trees.

"So anyway!" Sarah smiled harder, trying to salvage the situation. "We're just cutting roots back today. Easy stuff for your first day. Grab a pair of clippers and pick a spot." She gestured at the wall of twisted trees behind her.

"Right. Thanks." Sam did his best to ignore the romantic look Sarah was still giving him, shaking his head at the silliness of the whole situation and took a pair of clippers on his way past the truck. He breathed a sigh when he was beyond the line of trees and purposefully aimed in the opposite direction he'd seen Al go. He trudged through dense undergrowth and quickly found the Mangrove trees Jack had mentioned and their vines that were crawling out toward the resort and choking the forest. He'd seen enough of them in the southern states to know how quickly they could spread.

He'd been cutting vines for near an hour. Sam had the top of his cover-alls tied around his waist, the tank beneath was soaked with sweat and clinging to him. He paused, wiping a grimy hand over his forehead and looked up. He startled. In the tree above him, perched on a limb in the shady forest, was a spirit.

"Crap." Sam said softly. He dug into his pocket for the flask of salt he'd grabbed just in case. The ghost watched him. It was a man. Sam couldn't tell how tall he was from down on the ground but he looked like he'd been formidable in life. He was bulky with dark hair hanging in front of his eyes and he glared down at him. Sam brought the flask up, unscrewing the cap and the ghost vanished.

"Huh?" He looked around but saw nothing. He started backing out of the grove, back toward the hotel and stopped when he heard a cracking sound, like wood splintering. He turned in time to see a massive, gnarled branch break from the tree above him and fall.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2** _

Dean fought back a very un-Dean like giggle. Somehow he had a feeling that, in spite of the ridiculous shorts, he'd gotten the better end of the job deal. He stood on the black sand beach, toes squirming into the warm sand and watched twenty women under the age of forty doing jumping jacks…in bikinis. Sometimes…life was just good. The shorts were a hell of a price to pay though and he couldn't stop himself pulling at them, trying vainly to make them longer or less tight or less covered with gay little flowers. He scowled until he looked back up at his 'class'.

"Keep it up, girls! Ten more!" Dean called cheerfully and figured someday when he died this might be what his heaven looked like. He chuckled. He couldn't get over the wide expanse of black sand stretching away in either direction. He glanced down and watched it squelching darkly up through his toes and smiled at the sensation.

"Dean!"

Dean looked up in surprise and saw Jack striding across the beach, waving to him. He looked to his fellow Physio instructor and got a nod to leave. He walked surely to meet Jack halfway. "What's up?"

Jack panted in a few breaths and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "There was an incident with the groundskeepers."

"Sam?" Dean's stomach dropped and he made for the hotel. "Take me. Now."

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam saw the massive branch dropping toward him, knowing it was going to hurt a lot and grunted in surprise when something barreled into him, knocking him out of the way as the branch crashed to the ground in a hail of splinters. His head slapped into the ground and something hard, sending stars exploding across his vision. Sam groaned as rough hands pulled him over and he found himself staring up at the angry face of Al.

"You tryin' to die boy?" Al growled at him and climbed to his feet.

Sam was still groggy, still feeling the ground beneath him spin and struggled to get his elbows under him. "Guh…thanks."

"Don't thank me." Al stalked over to the branch and looked up. "I don't like your kind. Don't know why I saved your ass." Al left him there without a backward glance and Sam frowned, trying to figure out what he meant by 'your kind'.

"Sam? Al?" Sarah's voice shouted and a moment later she sprinted into the clearing. "Oh my gosh! Sam are you ok?" Al appeared through the trees behind her, saw Sam and gasped.

"I'll go get help!" Al took off at a run as Sarah skidded to the ground next to Sam.

"Are you alright?" She reached a tentative hand out to the swelling bump on his head and the small gash above it that was bleeding into his hair. "What happened?"

Sam gestured behind her. "Branch fell. Al shoved me out of the way." He put a hand up to his head and grimaced. "M'I'bleedin'?"

"Oh man, maybe you better lay down, Sam." Sarah put a hand on his chest. "You don't look so good."

Sam nodded his head, instantly regretting the movement and felt sure he must have turned green. He resisted the need to throw up, barely, closing his eyes and starting to fall back on the ground when he heard his brother.

"Sammy?" Dean called and came into the clearing, following Al. He saw a woman, Sam lying on the ground and falling back as he watched with blood on his head. He jumped a huge fallen branch and dropped beside him, sliding a hand behind his brothers' head before it could hit the ground. "What the hell happened?"

"He said a branch fell and Al pushed him clear but geez is he supposed to be bleeding like that?" Sarah looked between the two men and sighed. They were both beautiful and of course off the menu.

"You ok?" Dean asked her, hearing her sigh and she blushed.

"Oh uh, yeah, just…you know." Sarah gestured at him and Sam. "You know what they say about the good ones."

"Huh?" Dean stared confused and then realization struck. He slapped his free hand to his forehead and promised himself he'd give Jack a good solid punch at some point for making him and Sam a 'couple'. "Right." He looked back down at his brother. "Sammy? Open your eyes for me, ok?"

Sam got one eye open and then the other. "Wha' happened?"

"Dude you don't remember?" Dean was worried now. He'd just told the woman not two minutes earlier and now he seemed to have forgotten. "Ok. I'm gonna get you up and into bed. Come on, buddy. Here we go." Dean got an arm under his shoulders and levered his heavy brother up from the ground. Sarah kept a hand on Sam's arm, steadying him when he swayed dangerously and ended with his head planted on Dean's shoulder against his neck.

"Will he be alright?" Sarah asked, overcome with how sweet they looked.

"Yeah he'll be fine. Hard head." Dean said and rolled his eyes at the dreamy look on the woman's face. Jack was really earning a punch in the face now. "Come on, sasquatch." Dean got him moving at a slow, unsteady walk. Navigating the gnarled mangrove roots was an adventure all on its own with a half-conscious man whose feet seemed determined to find every branch and trip on them.

They emerged finally and found Jack waiting with a golf cart. "Holy shit! Is he ok?" Jack stared at the blood matting Sam's hair and running down his neck, coloring his white tank top red.

"Head wound." Dean said and maneuvered Sam into the back seat and climbed in next to him, holding him upright. "They always look worse than they are. Just get us to our bungalow."

"Yeah, ok. I told the resort's Doctor to meet us there." Jack got the little cart moving at a good clip as Dean grabbed a towel hanging from the back of the seat and pressed it to the bleeding gash in Sam's head.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

"Just a mild concussion." The Doctor smiled up at Dean from where he sat beside a sleeping Sam. "Keep an eye on him. Wake him every hour for the next twelve…"

"Yeah I know the drill." Dean said and managed a tight smile. "It's not his first concussion."

"Ah well I'll leave you to it then." The Doctor closed his bag and left a bottle of Tylenol on the nightstand. "For the pain. Don't really have anything stronger."

"Thanks." Dean closed the door behind him and rested his head against it for a moment. "So much for peaceful sun and sand, eh Sammy?" He went to the bed and sat down beside his brother, checking the bandage on his forehead. Sam groaned his way awake at the touch.

"Dean?" Sam asked, eyes still closed and made him smile.

"Right here, little brother." Dean assured him and watched the tense body relax; hazel eyes blinking open.

"Found the ghost." Sam said, groggy and licked dry lips.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah I figured that's what happened." He grabbed a bottle of water from the table and handed it to him. Sam took it and drank thirstily.

"Tried to drop a tree on me." Sam frowned. "I think…did I hit my head?" He asked and Dean laughed.

"Yeah. Guess some guy linebackered you into the ground and your head found the only rock in the area." Dean smirked at him. "Naturally."

Sam raised a hand to his head and his eyes widened. "Crap."

"Yeah you're pretty." Dean chuckled. "So, what'd Casper look like?"

"Big." Sam looked ruefully up at him. "Big guy, dark hair, pissed off face. That's all I saw before he tried to off me. I'm surprised he hasn't killed anyone yet."

Dean nodded. "Yeah me too." He took in Sam's pale and exhausted face. "Get some sleep. Gotta do concussion checks tonight." He slapped a hand into Sam's leg. "You're gonna owe me pie for all the sleep I'm not gonna get." He stood up while Sam snorted a laugh. "and don't hog the bed."

Sam laughed softly as he closed his eyes, getting relief from the bright light hurting his eyes. Being a 'couple' meant their bungalow only had the one queen size bed, a fact that had made them both groan and laugh when they'd seen it. He heard Dean pull a chair up beside the bed and dozed off as the TV clicked on and he felt his brother's feet land beside his legs on the bed.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam woke slowly, opening bleary eyes. His memories of the night were a hazy blur of sleep and being woken at regular intervals by his brother and asked how many fingers he was holding up and his name. After the first time Sam had replied with "Keptin Kirk" Dean had smacked him and started asking the names of the seven dwarfs instead. He looked over and saw Dean sprawled on the other side of the bed, sound asleep with one leg and one arm dangling off the side. He smirked and worked his way carefully out of the bed without waking him. His teeth felt fuzzy and he couldn't stand it.

Sam closed the bathroom door silently and turned on the sink, grabbed his toothbrush and sighed happily at the taste of the toothpaste. He looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror and just stood for a minute with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. His forehead above his left eye was a purple mess of bruising, the bandage having come off at some point during the night while he slept. He raised a hand and gingerly tested the area, wincing at how tender to the touch it was.

"Don't worry, Sammy. You're still pretty." Lucifer said suddenly and Sam's eyes jerked over to see him lounging on the side of the bathtub.

He wrenched his eyes back to the mirror and went back to brushing his teeth. He ignored the soft chuckle.

"Out of sight, out of mind, Sammy?" Lucifer laughed. "Oh if only it were that easy. Although, you are out of your mind these days."

"Shut up." Sam muttered around the toothbrush. He closed his eyes, shaking his head at himself and bent to spit and rinsed his mouth. He looked nervously over and sighed. Lucifer wasn't there anymore. He straightened and startled, knocking the glass from the edge of the sink with a crash.

"Hmm, we do have a fetish for broken glass these days don't we?" Lucifer smiled at him.

"Shut up!" Sam said more loudly and pressed the scar in his left palm hard, closing his eyes again.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came through the door. "You ok in there?"

"Yeah." Sam said automatically. He opened his eyes as his palm started to burn with the pressure and heaved a heavy breath, alone again. "Fine." He turned off the sink and opened the door.

Dean eyed him carefully, fully aware who his brother had been talking to. "You holding it together?" He asked, pointed and Sam flinched but nodded.

"Yeah. Honestly, Dean." Sam gave him a shadow of a smile. "I'm good."

"You say so." Dean shrugged, willing to let him have it his way so long as he didn't look like he was going Cuckoo's Nest on him again. "My turn. I want breakfast." Sam stepped out and allowed himself a quick shudder once the bathroom door shut. He took a few deep breaths, settling himself and got dressed. He took the Tylenol bottle and dry swallowed a couple against the headache he could feel starting to pound in his left temple. Hopefully today would be a better day.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean looked lovingly at the breakfast bar laid out for the staff. Sam chuckled as his big brother grabbed up a plate and started heaping food onto it. "Dude, leave some for everyone else." Sam said with a grin. Dean tossed a slice of bacon at him and then gave him a plate.

"Eat. No arguments." Dean leveled a second slice of bacon at him and glared until Sam raised his hands in submission. "Good boy." Sam may be an adult but sometimes Dean knew the only way to get him to take proper care of himself was to bully him. He was heap great Hunter but lousy at stoking that hulk of his.

"Sam! How are you feeling today?" Jack came over to them, grabbing a plate for himself.

"I'm good." Sam smiled and then glared at Dean when he heaped scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"Shut up." Dean told him with a smile and added a slice of melon to placate him. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm reassigning you inside the hotel." Jack said and patted Sam's shoulder. "Doc said you shouldn't be out in the sun and everything after a head wound like that. So, kitchens or housekeeping?"

"Housekeeping." Sam said easily. He'd have a better opportunity to explore the hotel without being noticed that way.

The three of them took their plates; Dean's laden to the point of tipping to a table away from the others and sat. "Have you found anything yet?" Jack asked quietly.

"Well I saw him." Sam said with shrug and felt the bump on his head. "Right before he tried to paste me to the ground."

"I've seen him a few times." Jack said and laughed lightly. "When he was pranking guests. I still can't understand why he's hurting staff now." Jack sighed. "You know he used to steal the chocolates from guests' rooms and leave them on my pillow when I was a kid?"

"And you weren't scared?" Sam asked, surprised. "I mean, he's kinda creepy looking."

"You think so?" Jack asked. "I always thought he was really friendly looking." He smiled. "I liked his goofy hair when I was a kid."

"Goofy hair?" Dean looked up from his plate, brows raised.

"All that spiky blonde hair." Jack chuckled. "I knew he had to be a surfer when he was, you know, alive."

Sam stared in surprise. "Blonde?"

"Yeah! Didn't you see it?" Jack looked at him and Sam shook his head, turning to make sure he had Dean's attention.

"The ghost I saw had black hair; Long black hair hanging in his face." Sam told them. "Jack, I think this just got more complicated." Sam glanced up as Al walked into the dining room and narrowed his eyes. "Hang on. I'll be right back."

"What's up?" Dean asked and Sam just shook his head and got up.

Sam met Al at the buffet table, trying not to scowl when the man gave him a dirty look. "Al. I wanted to thank you again for yesterday. I'd be dead if you hadn't shown up when you did."

Al shrugged in irritation. "Whatever."

"How did you know to come save me?" Sam asked him and felt that tug in his gut that told him his hunch was right. He leaned in and whispered. "It's ok. I know about the ghost here. You won't freak me out." He watched Al's eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in dislike again.

Al nodded shortly. "Dickie popped in. Said the new guy needed help." He glared sideways at Sam. "I still don't like you but I guess…no one should go out like that."

Sam nodded. "Well thank you, Al." He left the man scowling at the breakfast buffet and went back to the table. He sat and nodded.

"Jack, your boyhood ghost isn't the one hurting people." Sam said surely. "He saved me yesterday."

"Come again?" Dean dropped his toast.

"Al says Dickie came to him and told him I needed help. You've got more than one ghost here, man." Sam told him and saw the young man blanch and then smile.

"So Dickie hasn't been hurting people? Oh thank goodness. That was really bugging the hell out of me, you know?" Jack grinned.

"Dickie." Dean muttered and shook his head. "What a name. You ever try to find out who he is?"

"Yeah. Few years ago I did some research." Jack nodded. "I'm pretty sure his name's Dickie Cross. He was a surfer died back in '43 in Waimea Bay. They never did find his body. Just washed away on the twenty foot waves. Made the whole bay Kapu for like a decade."

"Kapu?" Sam tilted his head and Jake laughed.

"Means off limits, basically. Too dangerous." Jack frowned. "So, if this is a whole different ghost, where'd this guy come from all of a sudden?"

"Now that's a good question." Dean sat back from his now empty plate and patted his full belly. "Anyone died recently at the resort? Violently maybe? Suicide?"

Jack shook his head. "No one's died here at the resort in, oh has to be at least thirty years, maybe forty. You're welcome to dig through our records if you want. I can let you in the office after we close up for the night."

"That'd be great." Sam smiled and took a bite of eggs when Dean not so subtly nudged his plate closer to him. "Dude, you keep mother henning me people are really gonna buy the whole couple thing….and you're so the wife." He ducked the flying piece of toast and bit into his melon slice with a satisfied grin.

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To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3** _

Sam pushed his housekeeping cart ahead of him toward the elevator. It wasn't the first time he'd cleaned rooms either for an honest paycheck or as part of a hunt but he still didn't like it. It was kind of mind numbing; wandering room to room, cleaning alone and having no one to talk to. He patted the pocket of his slacks though with an embarrassed smirk. Two of the rooms he'd cleaned, the occupants had been in them; older women in their fifties who had all but cooed at his dark hair and puppy eyes. They had tipped him very well and the second, older woman had slapped his backside on his way out the door. Okay, maybe he wouldn't tell Dean about that.

He reached the elevator and slapped the down button. It was getting late, on to ten at night and Jack had promised to leave the office doors open for them and that all the staff would be out. He needed to get downstairs and meet Dean. The elevator doors opened and Sam pushed his cart in, hitting the lobby button as they shushed closed.

He leaned back against the wall and then jerked upright when the temperature in the elevator suddenly dropped. His breath puffed out in a cloud and he dug in his pocket for the flask of salt as the ghost of a young man materialized on the other side of the elevator. He couldn't have been more than twenty with a head of spiky blonde hair that reminded him of Dean and friendly brown eyes.

"Uh…Dickie?" Sam said softly and the ghost nodded his head with a smile. "Thank you…for saving me in the woods." Dickie shrugged as if to say no big and Sam smiled. He could understand why Jack had grown up liking this spirit. "Dickie, do you know where your…remains are?"

Dickie shook his head, a sad expression on his face. "Wish I did, dude." He said finally, softly, in a warm voice that filled the elevator.

Sam nodded. "How come you…you know, haunt the resort?"

Dickie smirked. "Just ended up here one day. Dude, I tried to shoot this big mama wave to the shore and acid dropped and the next thing I know I'm standing on the beach here. Long time ago." He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the spikes and grinned. "I like the place. The staff are cool in any decade." He chuckled. "You should watch your head when you get out the elevator, brah." Dickie warned and vanished.

"Huh." Sam shook his head. He'd wanted to ask more questions, like what Dickie knew about the other ghost. "Guess I'll have to hope for a next time." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the quiet lobby. He took a step to the door; thought about what Dickie had said and pushed his cart out first instead. He threw himself backward as something from above crashed into the cart, crushing it and toppling it back into the elevator doors. "Holy crap!" Sam shouted as he thumped into the back wall. He was still sitting there, stunned, when Dean skidded to a stop outside, anxiously looking in.

"Sammy! You ok?" Dean climbed half over the trashed cart to see his brother who gave him a thumbs up.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm ok." Sam used the railing in the car to pull himself up and pushed his hair back from his face. "Dickie showed up to warn me."

"Say what?" Dean leaned back out of the car looking up and then down at the cart. "Dude, that bastard ghost dropped a damn gargoyle on you." He pointed to the stone ornament perched in what remained of the housekeeping cart. "What'd you do to piss this guy off?"

Sam snorted and climbed out of the elevator, surveying what could have been his head. "I don't know man but Dickie's a cool guy."

"I'm getting that." Dean nodded and wanted to meet the ghost for himself. He'd saved his little brother twice now. That gave him a special place in Dean's heart. "Come on, let's get this out of sight and go search those records. I wanna find this asshole now." He grabbed the base of the cart and Sam the other side and together they pulled it out, letting the doors slide closed. They manhandled the wreck down the hall to a broom closet and shoved it in.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

The offices were unlocked and empty as Jack had promised. They quickly found the records room and Dean huffed a dismayed breath at the rows of filing cabinets. "Seriously. They can't put all this on a damn computer?"

Sam chuckled and rolled up his sleeves. "Maybe you should go grab us some coffee."

"Hell no. I'm not leavin' you alone in here for jackass to have another go at you." Dean went to the first cabinet and pulled it open. "I'll start on this end, you start over there."

Two hours and a dozen cabinets later, they had a stack of a dozen deaths occurring at the resort over the fifty years of its operation. They gathered up the files and left the offices the way they found them, locking the door and headed toward the back of the hotel. Sam flipped through the first couple folders.

"Well these two are women so I think we can rule them out." Sam said.

Dean smirked. "Unless Mr. grumpy was a cross dresser in life."

Sam handed the women's files to him with a laugh. "Might explain the sour look on his face. This one's too old." He handed Dean another folder as they walked and grunted in thanks when Dean took his arm and pulled him, avoiding a pillar while he read. "Heart attack…another heart attack. This one died of heat stroke on the beach." He shuffled the folders.

"No wonder he keeps getting the drop on you." Dean said with a shake of his head and nudged Sam when he would have walked into a doorframe. "Dude read AND watch those massive feet of yours."

"Huh?" Sam looked up and then grinned sheepishly. "Right. Sorry." They stepped out into the warm, tropical night and Sam tucked the files under his arm. The moonlight wasn't strong enough to read by. It was peaceful, the sound of a Luau wafted on the air from the beach on the other side of the hotel. Distantly they could hear voices and music. The resort was by no means booked full this time of year but they had enough guests, fifty or so, to warrant breaking out the stops. "You want to go check out the Hula dancers?"

"They have those?" Dean looked over his shoulder with a lascivious smirk and then shook his head. "Hunt first. Chasing grass skirts later."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Better wear those shorts. They'll never be able to resist."

Dean gave him a hearty shove, making him stumble and chuckled.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sarah stepped into her bungalow, closing the door behind her and flipped on the lights. She'd had her fill of drunk guests and roast pig for the night and ditched the Luau when someone had started looking for the karaoke machine. She chuckled and pulled her blonde hair loose of its ponytail with a sigh. She could do without an inebriated rendition of Smoke on the Water and someone always did that one. Her cat padded out of the bedroom to her and wound his fluffy, white body around her legs.

"Hey there, Spartacus." Sarah knelt and picked him up, letting him walk across her shoulders and drape himself in his customary place, purring behind her neck. "Want a drink? I want a drink." Sarah went to the little bar and pulled out a beer from the fridge, cracking it open with a hiss.

Spartacus stopped purring on her shoulders. She reached a hand up to his head and paused as she saw her breath frost out of her mouth in front of her. "What the?" Spartacus hissed suddenly and launched himself from her shoulders and back into the bedroom where he vanished under the bed. "Ow! Spartacus that freakin hurt!" Sarah rubbed the claw mark on her shoulder and then froze. Goosebumps crawled up her skin and a low voice oozed into the air from all around, freezing her blood in her veins with terror.

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"Hey what about this guy?" Dean tossed a folder at Sam across the coffee table and picked up his empty beer. He went to the fridge and pulled out another, twisted the cap off and looked back at his brother. "He looks like a likely candidate for ghost asshole of the year."

Sam read the file, eyebrows rising and nodded. "Yeah I think you're right. I mean, 'death by misadventure', what the hell does that even mean?"

"Means the cops couldn't decide if it was an accident or not." Dean snorted. "So they decided it was some sort of screwy mishap and filed it."

"Right. He _accidentally_ beat himself over the head and threw himself through a window off his tenth story balcony." Sam shook his head. "Not suspicious at all then. We need to ask Jack about this guy." He read the rest of the file. Mathew Gallagher had died thirty years ago and it was weird enough that the story might have survived three decades among the staff.

"What I wanna know is, why now? If this is our second ghost, why's he pop up now?" Dean sat back down, putting his feet up on the table. "And why's he got such a hard on for hurting the staff?"

Sam pulled a handwritten sheet of paper from the back of the file where it had been folded in beneath the rest. It was yellowed and crinkled as he opened it and looked in surprise. "Maybe because some member of the staff back then had something to do with his death. This is a note from the then manager of the resort about having to leave a disciplinary mark in a member of Staff's file because of this guy." Sam handed the note to Dean.

"Ah hah and the plot thickens." Dean took it and read it carefully. "Well dammit he couldn't have said which staff member or why?" He handed it back. "Guess that would be too easy. Suppose Jack's still up?"

Sam laughed. "Dude it's almost one in the morning. Let the poor guy sleep."

"Oh come on, I can still hear the Luau out on the beach." Dean smirked and nodded his head toward the open window and the sound of bad singing. "Bet he's over there. He's the manager after all."

"I'm going to bed." Sam said and stood, dropping the file on the table. "You can go dodge the bad karaoke singers if you want." He chuckled at the disgusted look on Dean's face and then jerked his around to the window as Dean shot off the couch. "Did you hear that?"

"That was a scream." Dean dodged to his bed and pulled the sawed-off shotgun from under it, checking it was loaded with rock salt. "Come on." Sam nodded and followed him out the door at a run. "You hear where it came from?"

Sam jogged beside him and nodded toward a line of bungalows on their left. "That way. The voice sounded like Sarah." Sam said, feeling worry drop into his stomach. He took the lead and led Dean to the bungalow he'd seen Sarah enter the day before. The music still filtered through the night from the beach and apparently was loud enough out there none of the guests had heard the scream.

Sam ran to the door, sliding to the side and put his hand on the knob as Dean placed himself in front of it, gun held ready. He gave Sam a short nod and Sam turned the knob, pushing the door open in a rush as Dean ducked through, leading with the shotgun, Sam at his back.

"Ah hell." Dean sighed and lowered the gun slightly. They were too late. Sarah's body lay before them, spread in the middle of her sitting room and very much dead. Sam stepped past him and knelt by the poor woman's head.

"Dammit." Sam breathed and reached a hand out, pressing fingers to her throat and not surprised when he didn't find a pulse. She lay on her back staring up at nothing, a look of terror frozen on her face. Her throat had been cut and there were at least a dozen more slices across her torso and arms. A pool of blood was beginning to spread beneath her and Sam stood back before it reached his shoes. He exchanged a miserable look with Dean and shook his head.

Dean raised the gun again and went to the bedroom, checking as Sam pulled their EMF out of his pocket and flipped it on. The needle leaped up into the red before dropping back into the mid-range. He turned it back and slipped it back into his pocket. "There was definitely a ghost here." He said to Dean as his brother came back in the room.

"Guess he got what he came for." Dean said angrily. He didn't know the woman but losing an innocent was never easy. He spun, gun raised as a scratching noise came from the bedroom. He motioned an arm behind him, telling Sam to stay back and stalked back into the room. Another scratch came from beneath the bed and he lowered the muzzle and then yelped, jumping aside as a fat white cat streaked from under the bed and into the sitting room. "Holy crap!"

Sam chuckled and scooped the cat up when it barreled into his legs. "You can relax, big brother. It's just a cat." He scratched long fingers into the fur around its head, smiling at the instant purr and tugged the collar around so he could see it. He snorted a laugh. "Dude. The cats' name is Spartacus."

"Here." Dean handed him the shotgun. "You take the gun and our…witness back to the bungalow. I'm gonna go find Jack." He gave a last look at Sarah and strode out the door.

"Sorry about this, little guy." Sam said to the cat as it purred beneath his gentle fingers. He said a silent apology to Sarah that they hadn't been fast enough and left. He looked toward the hotel and saw the dark shadow of his brother loping into the back entrance. All of the staff must be at the Luau, he thought. All the bungalows around Sarah's were dark. "Or heavy sleepers." He murmured to the cat.

He reached their bungalow as the sound of voices and running feet sounded in the distance; Dean with the cavalry. Sam stepped inside and closed the door, setting the cat down on the chair. Spartacus sat on his haunches and seemed happy to watch Sam cross the room and pull out his laptop. "Let's see if we can find anything on our mystery guest, eh?" He glanced up as the cat hopped onto his chair and leaned against his side. "Don't worry, little guy. No ghost is getting in here." Sam said surely, with the doors and windows protected with salt, they were probably the only place in the resort the ghost couldn't just walk into.

Dean returned a half hour later, rubbing a tired hand through his hair and smirked. His little geek brother was stretched in the chair, feet up on the table and a ball of white hair spread along his legs while he worked on his laptop. "Nice leg warmer you got there, chief."

Sam smirked. "Hey, don't knock it. It massages too." He said, referring to the loud, contented purrs coming from the cat where it regarded Dean with lazy, gold eyes. "How'd it go?"

"Well, Jack's about ready to shut the whole place down." Dean went to the fridge and pulled out a fresh beer. "He can't believe someone's actually dead. The guy's crushed. Police are flying in in the morning. In the meantime her bungalow's locked up, scene preserved, yada, yada."

Sam nodded. "Well if Gallagher is our guy, we have a problem." Sam shut the laptop and stretched his arms over his head, relieving aching muscles. "His body was shipped home to Montana and he was cremated before burial which means…"

"Which means, if he IS our ghost, then someone had to summon his ass. Shit." Dean groaned and thumped into the other chair. "Man I hate people. The supernatural I get but people will screw you every damn time."

"My money's on Gallagher. He's the only death they've had here that could result in an angry spirit." Sam waved at the stack of files. "We need to know more about what happened when he was here."

"Ah. I asked Jack about that. He said there's an old guy in the laundry, uh…Barry." Dean smiled, happy he remembered. "Dude's been here since he was like twelve and he was working housekeeping in the hotel thirty years ago."

"Nice!" Sam said and then yawned. "Tomorrow. I need downtime." He nudged Spartacus who rose and walked off his legs to the table and then jumped into Dean's lap, rubbing his white head against the bottom of the beer bottle. Sam snorted. "Looks like you won't be drinking alone."

"Bite me." Dean glared and pointed a finger at the cat. "Back off, fuzzball. MY beer." He ignored Sam's chuckle as his brother left him there and then gave the cat a small smile when it licked the line of beer that ran down the side of the bottle and purred harder. "Heh. Cat after my own heart." Dean said softly so his brother wouldn't hear him. He tipped the bottle toward the cat and grinned as Spartacus eagerly licked at the beer that trickled out. "Ok, you can stay."

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_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4** _

The resort Laundry took up an entire floor of the hotel. The basement level of the building was devoted to it. Sam and Dean stepped out of the service elevator into controlled chaos as bags moved about the massive room on tracks in the ceiling. Washers and dryers belched heat and steam into the room, breaking them both out in an instant sweat and a handful of staff dodged here and there with armloads of linens, red-faced and busy. Sam pointed to the one person not running about, an old, white haired man comfortably ensconced on the other side of the room in a big chair.

"That has to be him." Sam walked out, ducking the moving line of laundry bags and followed down the aisle of machines to reach him. "Excuse me. Are you Barry?"

The man looked up with a quizzical smile on his face and nodded. "That I am. Who's asking?"

"I'm Sam. This is my b...this is Dean." Sam refused to introduce his brother as his partner. He just couldn't do it and heard Dean's snort of amusement behind him.

"Oh the couple'a married guys! I gotta tell you brah, that's cool with me." Barry grinned at them, peering around Sam's arm to see Dean and gave an amused whistle. "Hell I'd think about it too wid that one." He pointed at Dean and Sam did his best to smother the laugh that threatened to bubble up at the growl Dean let out. "Howzit?"

"Uh, right. So, Jack said you know everything there is to know about the resort going back thirty years." Sam nudged a hip onto the edge of his desk and smiled.

Barry laughed. "Bruddah I know everything about this place going back forever. What'choo need to know?" Barry's Hawaiian accent was thick and friendly and Sam decided he liked the guy already.

Dean stepped forward and smiled at the old man. "We want to know anything you can tell us about a guy named Mathew Gallagher. He died here…."

"Thirty years ago. I remember." Barry nodded sadly. "A mess is what that was. Why you interested?"

"Well, the truth is, Jack asked us to come here." Sam said, lowering his voice and leaning in so only Barry would hear him. "See, he says there's a…ghost hurting people."

"About damn time dat boy did something." Barry nodded and grinned at the surprised look on Dean's face. "Brah, I lived in these islands all my life. We know a thing or three about things dat go bump in the night." He leaned back and pointed to the nearest door. Sam and Dean both looked and then glanced at each other in surprise.

"Is that…" Sam started and Barry nodded.

"Salt. Sea salt. Plenty of it 'round here." He chuckled. "Me? I don't leave my laundry much so I gotta keep it safe." Barry crossed his darkly tanned arms over his ample belly. "Now Gallagher, I remember him. Dat guy, he stay here a lot back in the day. He wasn't comin' for the sand and surf though. He had his eye on a skirt."

Dean chuckled. "I've seen some of the skirts around here. Can't say I blame him."

Barry nodded. "Yeah but he was chasin' after one of the housekeeping girls. He was lolo over her, that's 'crazy' to you haoles." Barry chuckled. "Those two they had a hot thing goin' for years but only when he was here, you get it?"

Sam tilted his head. "You mean, they didn't have a relationship outside the resort?"

Barry nodded. "Right but that Gallagher, he figured he was faithful to her when he wasn't here, she should be too."

"Let me guess." Dean sighed. "She wasn't and he found out."

"You got it. The last time he came. He showed up and went to her Bungalow and found her with one of the Groundskeepers. Dude lost it." Barry shook his head. The manager threatened to fire her for, you know, fraternizing or whatever with a guest, did fire the Groundsman." He sighed sadly. "And dat's when everything went wrong. Cops could never prove it but I know what happened."

"What? What happened?" Sam asked, picturing the whole thing in his head as he filled in the blanks of the case.

"Well, I didn't see it mind you, but I figure it out." Barry said with certainty, tapping a finger on the side of his head. "That night was when Gallagher took his swan dive. I heard the manager yelling at Sherry, that was her name, heard him fire Tom too. I was comin' out the kitchens when I heard them two talkin' and Tom said how he was gonna make the haole pay."

"So that's how Gallagher got beat up before he went out the window." Dean nodded, understanding dawning.

"That Tom he was a fighter, yeah? Manager was gonna fire him eventually anyway but Tom he didn't see it that way. I saw him going upstairs when I left. Next I know, there's people screamin' outside and Gallagher's dead, splatted on the lawn." He shook his head.

"What happened to the two of them? Tom and Sherry?" Sam sat back, saddened for how the guy had died.

"They both left next day. Last I heard they was married somewhere on da mainland." Barry shrugged. "Cops never looked to deep. Figured the guy got drunk and fell."

"Yeah your average cop aint exactly a deep thinker." Dean commented and got an elbow from his brother. "What?"

"Quit it." Sam scolded. He didn't have the complete lack of faith in the authorities Dean did. They did their best with what they knew, they just didn't know enough. That wasn't their fault. "Thanks Barry. Really."

"Aw it's nothin'." Barry grinned. "Kinda nice havin' someone come down to talk to me."

"Actually, you know anyone who'd want Gallagher causing problems around here all of a sudden?" Dean asked as Sam stood beside him.

Barry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Who'd wanna let a pissed off spirit loose on people? That's lolo brah!"

"Got that right." Dean nodded. "Come on, honey. We got work to do." Dean smirked at his brother's scowl.

"Bite me, sweetie." Sam tossed back.

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"I just…I can't believe it." Jack sat dejected behind his desk looking up at Sam and Dean with miserable eyes. "I can't believe she's dead. Spent all morning on the phone with my Dad. He won't let me close the place down." He shook his head. "God what if someone else dies?"

"Jack. Take a breath, man." Dean dropped an awkward hand on his shoulder for a moment. "This isn't your fault. What did the cops say?" Dean had seen a few uniforms wandering the resort on their way back from the laundry.

"They said they don't know anything. Didn't find signs of an intruder." He waved his hands. "They wouldn't would they?"

"No." Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "We will figure this out. We know who the ghost is we think." Sam handed Jack the file on Gallagher. "Odds are it's him but Jack." Sam sat across from him and waited until he had his attention. "The only way this guy can be here is if someone summoned him." Jack's eyes widened in shock.

"You mean…someone WANTED this to happen?" He sat back with a thump. "Oh my god."

"Yeah and we need to figure out who that is." Dean prowled the office. "So we need a list of all the staff and guests here right now. Gotta warn ya." He caught Jack's eyes. "It's probably gonna be someone who works here."

Jack's face paled as he dropped his head. "I just…I can't believe someone here would…poor Sarah." He covered his face. Sam felt for him. "I'll…I'll get the files together for you."

"Thanks, Jack." Sam stood and reached over, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. "You did the right thing calling us in." Jack nodded and the brothers left him to gather himself.

"Dude's a mess." Dean said with a shake of his head. "Can't blame him."

Sam nodded out to the lobby and the crowded front desk. "What's that look like to you?"

"Like people trying to get the hell out of Dodge." Dean said and after a few quick questions hastily answered by the desk clerk he was proven right. People were leaving the resort after the murder, too nervous to stay. The clerk said they had to line up extra helicopters to get out everyone who wanted to leave.

"There going to be anybody left?" Sam asked. Dean snorted.

"Twenty or so guests. Some of the staff's going too according to Alice over there." Dean nodded to the pretty receptionist.

Sam chuckled. "Remember, grass skirts later."

"Dude." Dean elbowed. "Who am I to argue if she wants a little comforting later?"

"You're the guy who's going to be too busy helping his brother stop the killer ghost." Sam said and rolled his eyes. "Come on."

"Oh dude! What the hell do cats eat?" Dean asked as they headed out of the lobby.

Sam barked a laugh. "I knew you liked that cat."

"Do not." Dean shrugged uncomfortably. "Just shouldn't let the guy starve."

"Uh uh." Sam smirked. "You go back to the Bungalow, wait for Jack and the files. I'll stop off at the kitchen and grab something."

"Not alone. I'll come." Dean said and Sam groaned.

"Dude, it's broad daylight and there's loads of people around." Sam waved an arm at the active hotel. "I'll be fine. I can handle myself you know. Go on."

Dean scowled. "You get dead I'm gonna be seriously pissed."

"Likewise." Sam saluted and turned down the hall to the kitchen, leaving Dean to watch him go.

"Stubborn jackass." Dean muttered but left him and turned away. He still wasn't completely comfortable trusting Sam on his own sometimes. He knew it infuriated his little brother but their run in with the Vetala had kicked his protective instincts back into high gear. He'd almost lost Sam on that one. It still made him twitch; seeing his brother tied to that chair, blood covering his neck and chest…he shivered and then smirked, remembering Elliot Ness. His hero had called him a 'nancy'. Dean chuckled to himself as he stepped outside into the sunlight. Elliot had put some things in perspective for Dean. He wasn't sure he'd call himself 'alright' yet but he was getting closer. Elliot had been right; they were making a difference, saving lives. He wasn't sure he could explain to Sam what those words had meant to him, he was still having trouble explaining it to himself. Everyone had to die someday; it was what you did in the meantime that mattered and they'd saved the damn world, them and Bobby. Thinking of Bobby still made his heart go cold with the pain of that loss but it was getting easier to smile around it. Bobby went the way he wanted to, Dean reminded himself. He went saving his boys and making a difference. Bobby had said he wanted to go first, that he didn't want to have to ever live through one of them dying first on him again. Dean's throat tightened. He made himself picture Bobby at the end; the loving smile he'd had on his face as he'd looked at them, him and Sam. I lost my Dad again, Dean thought to himself but this time it was bittersweet. This time, maybe, it didn't have to suck him so far down the hole. 'Idjits'. Bobby's last word to them echoed in his ears and brought a small smile to his face even as his eyes traitorously went damp.

"Dean!" Jack's voice snapped him out of his reverie and Dean quickly rubbed his palms over his eyes. He looked back to see the young man jogging to catch him. He carried a thick file with him and held it out to Dean as he reached him. "Here, the files on all the guests and staff."

"Thanks man." Dean took the heavy folder and tucked it under an arm. "You doin' ok?"

"Yeah." Jack brushed a hand through his hair, still looking a bit pale. "I'm ok. Sorry about, you know, falling apart back there."

"Don't worry about it. You're handling it better than most do." Dean told him and meant it. "Thanks for this. We'll get started right away. With any luck, we'll be able to put this guy away in the next day or two."

"Good. If you need anything else, just let me know." Jack smiled. "I've put you guys on the off duty roster the next couple of days. No one minds. They pretty much all know you found Sarah." He looked at the ground, upset again. "They all figure you guys need time to get over it."

"Thanks." Dean clapped him on the arm and left Jack to walk back to the hotel, shoulders slumped.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam stepped into the kitchen after taking a couple wrong turns. He'd expected it to be busy at this time of day but there were only three people in the big, industrial kitchen. "Um, hello." Sam greeted the large woman wielding a ladle at a boiling pot.

"Hey yourself, gorgeous." She grinned at Sam, giving him a long look. "Son if I were twenty years younger you'd be in trouble."

Sam blushed deep scarlet, feeling his face burn. "Um…can I…I need…"

"Well spit it out, son. What do you need?" She stopped stirring and cocked a hand on her hip. "What can old Theresa get ya?"

"We've uh…we have Sarah's cat and I was just looking for something to feed him." Sam managed finally.

Theresa smiled sadly. "Aw that's where the little sweetheart got to. Good on you, son." She reached a meaty hand out and patted his shoulder. "I keep food for him in the back. Just head back that way and around the corner. Past the freezers there's a shelf. You'll see it."

"Thanks." Sam said and made a quick getaway while Theresa made happy noises at his backside. "Jeez next time I'm sending Dean." He muttered and followed the rows of stoves and tables through the long room and turned down the hall she had pointed too. It was much quieter back here, the sounds of the kitchen muted. The hall had three steel doors on each side, the freezers and at the end a tall shelf. He smiled spying the cat food cans and quickened his stride.

Sam stopped, feeling the temperature begin to drop and froze. "Ghost or freezers?" He asked himself. He reached for his pocket and his salt and grunted when an invisible force grabbed him up. Beside Sam, one of the big freezer doors flung itself open and Sam was unceremoniously tossed inside. He rolled across the biting cold floor, coming to rest against the back wall. Sam scrambled to his feet and reached the door as it slammed shut in his face.

"NO!" Sam shouted and started banging on the door. "Help!" A sound from behind him made him spin, hand digging in his pocket. The ghost of Mathew Gallagher stood a few feet away from him, eyes narrowed in malice. Gallagher reached his arms out and Sam pulled the flask from his pocket, unscrewed the lid and flung salt through him.

Gallagher's ghost gave a furious cry and vanished, temporarily sent packing by the salt. "Holy crap. This is not good." Sam turned back to the door and started pounding his fists against the frosted metal as the cold began to eat through his thin coveralls.

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Spartacus was waiting for him when Dean opened the door. "Hey beer boy." Dean greeted the cat and stepped inside. He closed the door and tossed the thick file on the coffee table. "Sammy's getting you some food. In the meantime, how about a beer?" Dean chuckled at himself. "Can't believe I'm talkin' to a damn cat." He said as he fished a beer out of the refrigerator and popped the cap off. He took a small plate from the shelf and put it on the floor, dribbling some of the beer into it for Spartacus. He toasted the cat as it started licking happily at the amber liquid. "Cheers."

Dean took a swallow of beer, savoring the taste and looked about the room. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the front door. "What the hell?" He muttered. The salt line at the door was broken. "Spartacus, you screwin' with our protection man? Cause I gotta tell ya, that's a deal breaker." Dean went into the bedroom to get the salt canister out of his duffel and, out of habit, checked the line on the window. It was broken as well. A bad feeling began to shiver down his spine. There weren't any paw prints in the salt, just a clean break where someone had swiped their hand through it.

"Not good." Dean said softly and pulled his shotgun out along with the canister. He stepped quickly to the window and re-poured the missing spot. He turned back toward the living area with the gun raised and moved carefully to the door. "Gallagher if you're in here I _will_ blow your ass out of the water, pal." Dean stepped into the living room, eyes searching. Spartacus still lapped at his saucer of beer but as Dean watched, the cats white head rose, eyes narrowing and he hissed. "Ah hell. Come on, Casper! Show yourself!" Dean shouted as the cat bolted past his feet and under the bed.

The temperature dropped. Dean's breath puffed out in front of his face. He kept his back to the wall and the gun ready, setting his beer on the small table next to him. The sound of the empty bottle on the wood drew his eyes down in a frown. He stared at the bottle, confused. He was certain….almost certain…that he hadn't finished it.

A rattling sound broke his eyes away from the bottle and back into the room. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" Dean glared out, ready to blast Gallagher as soon as he showed his face. The rattling continued, growing louder and Dean realized it was the windows. The big, wide window beside the door. It exploded in to the room without warning. Dean threw himself to the side, trying to get into the bedroom and slid on his side along the floor as glass rained down over top of him.

Dean rolled to his back with a short cry of pain. He hadn't escaped. He looked down to see a vicious piece of glass protruding from the left side of his stomach just above his belt. "Son…of a bitch." He ground out between gritted teeth and dropped his head to the floor with a thump as the air in the room chilled once more.

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_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

_**CHAPTER 5** _

Sam kicked at the heavy steel door. He had his hands inside his coveralls, tucked under his arms trying to warm his fingers. It was freezing, the temperature inside not much above freezing. He kicked the door again, barely moving it in its frame with a dull thud. "HELP!" He shouted again, voice beginning to go hoarse on the cold air. He rested his head against the door for just a second and pulled it away with a hiss of pain. The metal was bitingly cold.

"Remind you of anything, Sammy?" Lucifer's voice whispered in his ear and Sam flinched, turned and thumped his back into the door with the Devil so close to him. "So cold it hurts doesn't it, bunk buddy." Lucifer leaned into him, waving long fingers through the panicked puffs of warm air that hitched out of Sam's gaping mouth. He grinned.

"Not real." Sam whispered and slammed his eyes shut on the vision. "You're not real."

"Nope." Sam felt Lucifer's frigid fingers ghost along his jaw and jerked away. "Doesn't mean we can't still have some fun." Lucifer pressed into his chest and Sam whimpered, couldn't help himself and flattened against the icy door at his back as the cold ate through his coverall. "Isn't this how you do it? Share body heat?" Lucifer chuckled against him. "Oh right." Sam felt his lips whisper against his ear. "But I burn cold, don't I Sammy?"

"No!" Sam shouted and lurched away from the door, right hand pressing frantically into the scar on his left but Lucifer still stood there, leaning against the door with that amused, pitying look on his face that Sam had learned to hate. Panic gripped his heart. He was out. Dean told him he was out; they got him out. Sam ducked his head and focused on his palm, on the scar. "I'm out. No, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes." Sam jerked away as the hated hand touched his face again. "Having trouble getting rid of me, buddy?"

Sam's legs trembled, went weak. He fell to his knees and felt the ice on the floor curl up through his legs. "Dean!" He shouted but it was weak. The cold was stealing his voice and he wrapped his arms around his chest, rocking back and forth. He couldn't trust his eyes so he closed them but his ears weren't any help. He could still hear Lucifer as he paced around him, hear the soft chuckles that fell like weights into his quaking soul; the soft, far off jangling he knew all too well of chains coming for him, coming closer, waiting to wrap around him. He heard banging, another voice; heard what sounded like a door squealing open and then hands wrapped around his arms.

"NO!" Sam reared back at the touch.

"Shh, shhh, son, it's me! It's Theresa!" The woman kept hold of Sam when he tried to lurch away from her. His face was white, lips and eyelids blue with cold and, she was pretty sure, his mind was somewhere else a lot less happy than tropical paradise. Theresa's oldest son had served in the Gulf and she knew what this was, had dealt with it for long years with her own boy so she held on to Sam. She didn't try to move him, just kept her grip firm on his arms and kept talking until her voice filtered through whatever nightmare had hold of him. "That's it, son." She said firmly as he stopped fighting her. "Open your eyes so we can get you out of here."

"Out?" Sam's mind was a whirl of confusion. Lucifer's voice had been replaced by a woman. He frowned, he thought, maybe, he had heard her voice before. He cracked his eyes open, taking a moment to register what he was seeing; for reality to assert itself once more. "Th…Theresa?" He said her name like a question and felt her big hands tighten on his arms.

"That's right, son. Come on." Theresa stood, pulling him with her and moved him out of the freezer like she would a frightened animal and really, that's what she was holding on to just then. "Outside. Come on. That's it." Sam went with her, shaking, coltish but docile as his eyes blinked slowly. She got him out into the hall and kicked the door shut. The clang made Sam jump hard under her hands but she kept her hold on him. She pushed him down to the end of the hall away from the kitchens, thankful her fellow cooks hadn't come. The press of too many people wouldn't have helped. "You're freezing." She maneuvered him to the left of the shelves, where she knew the vents for the freezers came out, pouring warmth into the hall and settled him near the grate. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms briskly, watching his eyes as they darted back and forth and finally landed on hers.

"Theresa." Sam said and shuddered, his eyes drooping closed as he hunched forward.

"That's right, son. You're safe." Theresa's heart broke a little at the quiet desperation in his tone and she gathered him up in a hug, wrapping her arms around his tall, muscled frame and rubbed the quaking back under her hands as his head bent forward to fall onto her shoulder. "You're safe, Sam."

His head jerked back up and he pulled back, eyes narrowing at her as he shivered. "I…I didn't t-tell you my n-name."

Theresa laughed lightly and kept her hold on his arms. "Dickie told me." She grinned at his surprise. "He said you needed help." She moved a hand to his face, looking hard into his eyes. "He said your brother needs you. Now."

Sam eyes widened in shock. "Dean!" He swallowed thickly and nodded. "Thanks. Thanks Th-Theresa. I'm okay." He stumbled past her, still shivering with cold and bolted down the hall and out.

She watched him go with a sad smile. "I think that boy could use some of my chicken soup tonight."

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Dean groaned, forcing his eyes open, his heavy arm to raise the shotgun as Gallagher appeared finally standing over him. "Hey ugly!" Dean ground out and fired into his chest. The ghost vanished with an angry scream. Dean let his head drop back to the floor on a moan before raising it again to look at his stomach. "Shit." He put a shaking hand near the piece of glass, trying to decide if he should pull it out or not. Spartacus emerged from under the bed and padded to Dean's head, rubbing his fluffy white body against his temple.

"Hey fuzzball, go…go salt the window for me?" Dean said, laughed and then moaned as it sent pain lancing through his gut. "Ah hell." He braced a hand around the shard of glass and scooted to the end of the bed, using it to slowly, agonizingly pull himself up until he was almost sitting. Through it all, Spartacus stayed at his side purring loudly as if in support.

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Sam burst from the back of the hotel at a run into the bright sunlight. He knew it was warm, could feel sweat spring out on his skin but he still couldn't feel it past the cold that seemed to have settled into his bones. He slid to a stop, hearing his name and turned to find the Doctor behind him, jogging to catch up.

"Sam!" The Doctor stopped beside him, catching his breath. "Gonna sound weird but…Dickie said you guys needed me." He looked sheepishly up at the tall young man. "This is turning out to be a weird day."

Sam nodded but said nothing, not trusting his voice. He just turned and started sprinting down the long, treed path toward the bungalow and his brother. 'Hang on, Dean.' He said silently.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean set the shotgun down and slung his arm up on the end of the bed. "Get up, Winchester." He growled at himself. He wasn't safe. The salt lines were broken and until he fixed them, Gallagher could breeze back in any time he wanted. He gulped in air against the burning pain that threatened to take him back down to the floor. "Okay…not standing." He felt sweat running through his hair, dripping down his face as he carefully bent forward to crawl across the floor toward the salt canister. He could see it and he needed to reach it.

He crawled slowly, so slowly, every movement sending knives through his gut. He did his best to hold the glass impaling him still, bracing it with his left hand. He reached the salt and pushed it with his right hand toward the now glassless windows by the door. He followed its slow roll across the floor, inching over the carpeting of broken glass; ignoring the little bites of pain in his right hand and knees as they bit into him.

Dean rested his head on the short wall below the empty window, panting. He needed a rest. He eased himself around until his back was resting against the wall and lowered himself down. He couldn't seem to get his breathing under control with the glass stabbing him every time his chest moved. He pressed his left hand, slick with blood, harder around it and felt himself losing the battle to stay awake. His head began to droop to his chest, his arms slackening with weakness. "Sorry…Sammy." He whispered, feeling sure that he wouldn't be waking up from this.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam put on a burst of speed as their bungalow came into view between the trees. He frowned, something was different. As he neared he realized the glass in the big front window was gone. "Dean?" He shouted and startled to see the top of his brother's dirty-blonde head at the bottom of the window. "Dean!" Sam got a shaking hand around the doorknob and pushed it open with the Doctor at his back. The interior of the Bungalow was a mess, shattered glass lay everywhere in a sparkling blanket across the floor except for a wide swath from the bedroom to the window covered in a trail of blood. Sam scrambled to his brothers side. He was too still. "Dean?" Sam took his face carefully in his hands as panic ripped through him at the sight of the glass embedded above his belt.

"Alright, Sam?" The Doctor knelt beside them. "We need to get him on the bed. Can you help me with that?"

Sam ignored him, focused only his brother. He tilted Dean's head up, needing to see those green eyes peering at him with irritation. "Dean." Sam said his name firmly. "Dean, wake up."

"Sam." The Doctor gave his arm a shake, frowning at the chill he felt there. "Sam!"

Sam's head jerked up, remembering they weren't alone. He fought the confusion in his head and nodded. "Right. Bed. Okay." He didn't see the concern on the Doctor's face, turning instead to slide an arm under Dean's shoulders.

"Careful of the glass." The Doctor warned. Together, they lifted Dean from the floor with the Doctor balancing Dean's long legs at the knees. They shuffled through the glass into the bedroom and gently lay the oldest Winchester down on the spread, head lolling to the side. "I'm Doctor Warner by the way." He said to Sam. "Don't think we got around to names the other day."

Sam nodded. He wasn't really listening. His eyes were focused on the bloody mess that was his brothers' stomach. He watched as Doctor Warner took a pair of small scissors from his bag and cut the fabric of Dean's shirt away. He pressed carefully around the glass where it lodged, making Dean moan.

"Dean?" Sam took his face in his hands again as it shifted side to side on the pillow. "Hey big brother, I need you to wake up for me, ok?" Sam said and meant it. He really needed his big brother to wake up and reinforce for him that he was safe; that he was out. Dean's eyelids fluttered but refused to open.

"Sam it's ok. Let him stay out for now." The Doctor put a hand on Sam's trembling arm and then gripped it hard, forcing the young man to meet his eyes. Suddenly he didn't think Dean was the only person in the room in need of help. "I need your help, alright, Sam?" He waited, getting a short nod. "Put your hands around the glass. I'm going to pull it out and I need you to keep pressure on the wound until I can close it. Sam."

Sam nodded again and let Dean's head go, moving his hands down to his brothers stomach. He placed his hands to either side of the glass as Doctor Warner took firm hold of it. "Okay here we go." The Doctor said and slid it out in one fluid movement. Dean shouted, almost a scream, arching up from the bed in shock while Sam pressed down on top of the open wound, pressing Dean back into the mattress at the same time. Warm blood bubbled up over Sam's fingers. It scared him and warmed his still frozen hands.

"Hold him down." Doctor Warner told Sam firmly as he grabbed Dean's flailing arm and checked his pulse, then bent to pull the man's eyelids open to see his eyes. "Dean? Dean can you hear me?" He got a moan in response. "Dean, I've taken out the glass. I need you to lay still as you can while I sew this up, alright?"

"He's gonna be ok, right?" Sam asked, voice rough. "Tell me he's going to be okay."

"He'll be fine, Sam." Doctor Warner said calmly and pulled a suture kit from his bag. "The glass couldn't have gone into a better spot. I know how that sounds." He smiled when Sam glanced up at him. "Nothing major in that spot for it to hit and it wasn't in very deep. I think he's just lost a lot of blood at this point."

Sam nodded, movement jerky and tried to hold on to the Doctor's words. Dean would be fine. He would be. He had to be. Sam closed his eyes and tried to push back the cold sensation that still moved through him; shivers still assailed him even in the warmth of the bungalow and the day. He couldn't feel it. He was still locked somewhere freezing.

"Move your hands, Sam." Doctor Warner was pushing gently at Sam's hands, trying to pry them up from the wound and the young man was somewhere else. "Sam." He said his name sharply and nodded when big, hazel eyes snapped out and found his. "Move your hands. I need to sew this up. Keep him still for me."

"O…okay." Sam shifted on the bed, moving up to Dean's head. He slid his brother's head into his lap and crossed his arms over his shoulders to hold him still. Dean twitched at the first entry of the needle; twitched again when it came out with the thread attached. He groaned, eyelids fluttering. "Dean?" Sam held him down more firmly as the Doctor made the next stitch and Dean tried in earnest to move away.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice, soft and weak made him sigh in relief.

"I'm right here, Dean." Sam said, lowering his head to see his face. "I've got you. Just stay still."

Doctor Warner quickly stitched the wound closed. He hadn't been lying. It was relatively shallow and in a good spot. He was fairly sure there hadn't been any real internal damage. What worried him now was the blood loss. Dean was pale with the lack of it. "I need to check the resort records and find a compatible donor. He needs a transfusion."

"Me." Sam said quickly. "You can use me. I'm his brother. Same blood type."

Doctor Warner looked up in surprise and then chuckled. "Somehow I knew Jack was full of crap about you two." He smiled at the two of them. "You just didn't behave like a…couple. Definitely more like brothers." He tied off the last stitch and picked up a pile of gauze, carefully cleaning the wound site. He tipped a bottle of peroxide onto the sutures, grimacing when Dean groaned and tried to turn away again but his brother held him fast until he was done. He covered the wound, taping the gauze down and nodded at Sam. "Ok, you can let him go. Get comfy somewhere next to him."

Sam kept his place at Dean's head, unwilling to move just yet while Doctor Warner stood and busied himself taking various things from his bag and setting them on the nightstand. "Sam." He touched the young man's shoulder. "Sam either lay next to him or sit in this chair here so I can transfuse you."

Sam reluctantly nodded and slid out from under Dean's head. He scooted off the side of the bed and lowered himself into the chair the Doctor pushed against it.

"That's good, Sam. Just sit." Doctor Warner spoke to him in a low, calm tone as though to a scared child. Something was very wrong with Sam, he just didn't know what but he wanted to be careful with him. He took Sam's right arm and laid it on the bed by his brother, tying a quick tourniquet above his elbow and doing the same to Dean. He quickly put a line into Sam and attached the other end to Dean and in a matter of minutes, had a steady flow of blood passing between the two. "Ok Sam. Just sit still now. He's going to be fine." He patted Sam's shoulder. "You both are."

Normally, he would have given a sedative to someone exhibiting the signs of shock that Sam was clearly showing but he couldn't risk it with the boy giving blood to his brother. He shook his head and settled for resting his hand at the back of Sam's neck, kneading gently. The muscles were corded beneath his hand, Sam holding himself firmly in check even as he trembled. He felt a chill on the man's skin and frowned. "Sam?"

"I'm ok." Sam said softly, eyes never leaving his brother's face.

"No. You're not." Doctor Warner said and went to the linen closet on the other side of the bed, pulling out the quilt he knew was stored in each bungalow. He went back and draped it over Sam's shoulders, tucking it tight around him. "Put your head down, Sam. It's alright." Sam shook but did as he was told, almost as though he couldn't argue. He rested his head on the bed beside his brothers' shoulder and let his eyes close. He was just so cold and he couldn't ignore the soft laugh coming from behind him…

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean groaned, turning his head. His stomach felt as though something was stuck inside of it, stabbing at him to get out.

"Dean?" The strange voice made him open his eyes and he saw the Doctor leaning over him. "You're alright, Dean. Just try not to move to much."

"Doc?" Dean said, voice raw and took a grateful sip from the cup the Doctor put to his lips.

"You're going to be fine. I removed the glass and sewed you up." Doctor Warner set the cup aside. "We had to give you a transfusion against the blood loss."

"How long?" Dean asked and then frowned. He felt something pressing against his left shoulder and rolled his head to see Sam's shaggy, dark hair pressed against him. "Wha?"

"Sam gave to you." The Doctor said calmly and smiled. "He's alright I think, physically anyway." He took Dean's wrist up and checked his pulse again. "Is your brother suffering Post Traumatic Stress from something?"

Dean twitched at the question. "You have no idea and no, I'm not gonna talk about it. How long was I out?"

Doctor Warner scowled but nodded, accepting. "About an hour. I've removed the transfusion lines. You'll both be groggy for a while. I have a few heat stroke patients in my infirmary I need to check on." He picked up his bag. "Drink the juice I've left you and when he wakes up, make sure he drinks some too." He patted Dean's leg. "I slipped him a small sedative. He seemed to need it."

"You drugged him?" Dean asked, glaring and started to push himself up.

"Easy, Dean." The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down. "Something's happened to him, alright? He was in shock. He'll wake soon, I promise. I'll be back to check on you in a couple hours."

"We're good." Dean said firmly. He didn't care if it was meant to help; no one drugged his little brother without his knowledge.

"Dean…" Doctor Warner started but got a glare in return.

"We're good." Dean said again. "Thanks."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. "Alright, but if the pain gets any worse or the bleeding starts again, you call me immediately." Dean nodded shortly and he left, the sure feeling of the mans' eyes boring into his back as he went.

Dean watched him go and then slowly pushed himself up against the headboard. "Holy crap." He breathed, curling forward over the fire in his belly. The first coherent thought that came back into his head was that he still needed to salt the window and the door again. "Hang on, Sammy. Back in a sec." He scooted to the edge of the bed and moaned when his feet hit the floor. "Okay, maybe a minute." He took a few deep breaths and got unsteadily to his feet. He wobbled to the bedroom door and looked out, seeing the salt canister right where he'd left it.

Dean lurched forward a couple steps and then stopped in surprise when the door opened and a very large, round woman stepped in. "Ah! You'd be Dean then!" She looked him up and down with a happy smile. "Goodness you boys are just too much hot packed into one place." She tsked and came in with a covered pot in her hands. "I'm thinking you're not supposed to be up and around, now are you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked and wobbled to the window. He lowered himself carefully to pick up the salt canister and straightened again with difficulty.

She laughed. "Theresa. Pulled your brother out of the freezer and sent him back here." She looked around and then stepped so she could see in the bedroom, her eyes widening. "Is he alright?" She asked, concerned.

"Wait, wait. Freezer?" Dean was confused.

"Freezer. That other spirit locked him in." She scowled angrily. "Dickie tipped me off. Got him out but…what war did he serve in?" She asked suddenly and Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "My oldest served, you see, so I know the signs."

"Signs." Dean repeated and then shook his head. "He was locked in a freezer?" The implications of that speared through him and he looked back to Sam's still form, hunched over the edge of the bed in his chair and sighed. "Dammit."

"Here give me that." Theresa came and pried the salt can from his hand. "What do I need to do with this?"

"I can…" Dean started but she cut him off, taking his arm and turning him toward the bed.

"You can go lay back down and take care of that one." She nodded. "Now. Salt?"

Dean stared her down for a moment and then shrugged, groaning as it pulled his stomach. "Uh, pour a line…at the door and…under the window."

"Ah right. Barry's always doing that." Theresa chuckled. "You go lay back down. I know what to do."

Dean did as she said. He looked back over his shoulder and saw her dropping the shutter over the empty window, locking it and pouring a thick line of salt beneath it. She made a shooing motion when she caught him watching and went to do the same to the door. Dean made it back to the bed, lowering himself down slowly and laid back with an exhausted sigh.

Theresa bustled into the room a moment later. She tugged the bedspread out from under him and pulled it up to his chest then went to Sam and adjusted the quilt covering his large shoulders with a few, gentle pats. "I'll leave you two boys alone. Chicken soup on the stove and you do what the Doc tells you, son." She fixed Dean with a firm stare when he looked at her, amused and then left.

Dean rolled a little to his side and tunneled his left hand into Sam's hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck. "Sammy what is it with you and women mothering you, man?" He chuckled softly. "It's ok, buddy. I'm here. I've got you." Dean said softly, curling his other hand over the wound in his stomach and let himself drift back to exhausted sleep, hand firmly holding his brother's head.

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_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dickie is based on a real surfer who did drown in '43 and whose body was never found. I rather enjoyed giving him a little homage in this fic and hey, who's to say he's not still shooting big mamma waves out there somewhere?

_**CHAPTER 6** _

Sam floated somewhere above his head. He should wake up, he thought. There was a reason he needed to wake up, something he had to do…Dean! Sam jerked awake, a cry on his lips and felt a hand at the back of his neck, holding his head to the soft bedspread beneath his cheek. "N…no!" Sam said in a hoarse voice.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice; but it didn't register. Sam reared away from the hand holding him down, shivering with cold and felt himself falling. He thumped onto the floor with a grunt and his eyes opened in surprise. "Sammy!" Dean was on his side on the bed, one hand covering his stomach and the other reaching out to him, taking hold of the shoulder of his cover all. "Sam!"

Sam heaved a breath in and out, trying not to hyperventilate as his experience in the freezer came back to him like a physical hit. "Shit." He gasped and reached a hand up, wrapping desperate fingers around his brothers' wrist.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm right here. Calm down." Dean said slowly, calmly. He knew this panic, had seen it before in a warehouse far away and quashed his own fear. He didn't have time for it. "Sam, look at me man. Sammy."

"Out. I'm out." Sam said softly under his breath and closed his eyes, squeezing Dean's wrist more tightly, feeling the pulse beating beneath his fingers and the warmth seeping into him from the grip.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean felt his throat tighten. Sam was hurting his wrist holding it so tight, probably have bruises there later, but he didn't care. His little brother needed the contact so he swallowed his own pain and got his legs over the side and sat up. He took a second to just breathe in and out, pushing down the pain and got his other hand onto Sam's neck, into his hair and squeezed. "Look at me. Come on, buddy."

Sam opened his eyes and saw Dean's fierce, green eyes looking back and something inside him dropped back into place. He let out a shaking breath and gave a short nod, breathing hard. "M'okay. I'm okay."

"Yeah you are." Dean tugged on his arms, bringing Sam closer. "Come on, get up. I can't come down there with ya." He said ruefully. Sam's eyes opened more widely and he looked to Dean's bare stomach.

"Oh hell, Dean are you ok? Lay down!" Sam sat forward in a rush, almost bumping heads with him and pushed gently on Dean's shoulder. Dean chuckled.

"I'm fine, man. How are you?" Dean watched him carefully, seeing the tightness around his eyes, noting the rapid breaths close to hyperventilating and the cold feel of Sam's fingers on his skin. "Dude you're freezing."

Sam nodded then shook his head. "No. No I'm ok." He said but saw the disbelief on Dean's face. "You need to lay down."

"No, I need to know you've got all your marbles in the box." Dean argued and yanked until Sam sat on the edge of the bed. He reached down and pulled up the quilt that had fallen to the floor and pulled it up over Sam's still shivering shoulders. "Dude it's like eighty in here and you're freezing so how about you tell me what the hell happened to you while I was getting skewered."

Sam shook harder. "Nothing. Got locked in the freezer."

"That was hours ago, Sam. Spill." Dean gave him a shake. "No secrets about this, remember? You talk to me."

Sam argued with the voice in his head that said Dean didn't need to know this, that he already had enough weight on his shoulders. "It was a freezer." He shrugged. "I froze. I'm ok."

Dean nodded slowly and caught his eyes. "You think I don't remember every damn word that came out of Lucy's mouth, Sam? I remember everything." He waited until he saw Sam's eyes settle. "I remember what he said about cold in Detroit." He gave him another shake. "So you talk to me."

"He was there." Sam ducked his head. "I mean, you know, not really but…he was…and I couldn't make him go away." His right hand drifted into his left, pressing the scar without thinking. "He said…god it was freezing and I couldn't…couldn't get out…" Sam's breath hitched, speeding up.

Dean gripped his hand at the back of Sam's neck again and stilled his hands with the other. "Hey, hey breathe. It's ok. It wasn't real. You know that." Sam nodded shakily, eyes still closed. Dean groaned, rolling his eyes at what he was going to do. He shifted further into the bed and pulled Sam with him, pushing until he lay with his back to Dean. "Gonna owe me for this chick flick moment, Sammy." Dean said ruefully and pulled at the quilt, covering Sam again, tucking it in before arranging himself behind him, one arm over his shoulders. When Sam had been a kid and a nightmare left him shaky, Dean had always been there to chase them away in the dark. Okay they were grown-ups now and Sam was anything but a kid but some things just didn't change and right now, he knew how to settle his little brother.

"No…" Sam mumbled groggily. The sedative was still working in his system and his eyes drifted closed as the weight of Dean's arm settled over him, safe.

"Shh, Sammy. You're safe." Dean pulled until Sam rested quietly against him. "You don't have to tell me anything else. Just go back to sleep."

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Dean woke again, blinking heavy eyes open and looked down, starting in surprise at the two gold eyes peering at him. Spartacus was resting with his paws and head on his chest, staring while his back end was comfortably weighted on the side of Sam's head. Dean snorted a laugh.

"Dude. I knew I liked you." Dean chuckled. "One side, fuzzy. I need the can." Dean gently pushed until the cat was sitting on Sam's head and carefully rolled to sit on the side of the bed. The stitches in his stomach pulled, driving pain into him and he cupped a hand over the bandage. "Damn." He spent a frustrating minute getting the remains of his shirt off and stood weakly, fumbling a hand out to the wall for support.

He wobbled his way to the bathroom and had an uncomfortable time relieving himself and holding his stomach at the same time. "This sucks." He said with feeling and then brushed his teeth. He avoided looking at his still too pale face in the mirror. He went back out and frowned, looking at the floor. The broken glass was gone, swept into a neat pile near the couch.

"What the hell?" Dean looked more carefully about the room for anything out of place. It upset him on a fundamental level that someone had been in their room and he hadn't even twitched. Someone else had been in their room that day and broken the salt lines too. He looked over to the stove and saw Theresa's pot now steaming gently away and blew out a breath. "Oh." He went over and lifted the lid, breathing deeply and smiled at the delicious aroma wafting out. "Oh baby." He felt relief that it was Theresa who had snuck in but he checked the salt lines again anyway, nodding when he saw they were safe.

Dean walked back to the bedroom, hunched over and flipped the light on against the darkness that had fallen. Sam lay where he'd left him, white ball of fur still perched on his head. "Up and at 'em, Sammy." Dean called. He gave his brothers feet a nudge and smirked when Sam moaned and rolled.

"Huh?" Sam's voice came muffled beneath Spartacus' body and he put a surprised hand up, shoving the cat off his head. "What the hell?" He looked in confusion from the ample cat to his brother and back.

"Dude, you know that's not the kind of pu…" Dean started.

"Dean!" Sam cut him off. "Don't even go there." He didn't want to hear the end of that sentence, knowing where it was going. He rubbed his hands over his face and dropped a leg off the bed while Dean chuckled. "How long have I been out?"

Dean shrugged. "No clue. About as long as me I guess and it's night now." Dean glanced down at his watch. "Shit it's almost eight. Come on. Your girlfriend left us some tasty soup and you're eatin' some."

"My wha?" Sam asked, confused. He pushed the unfamiliar quilt off and followed Dean, the cat purring happily at his heels.

"Theresa?" Dean grinned at him. "Big chick, apron, Mommy crush on you?"

Sam stopped, looking down with a frown on his face that cleared as the memories came back to him. He put a hand out to the wall for support and then took a deep breath, steadying his galloping heart. "Right. Theresa. I remember. She brought soup?" He looked up to find Dean watching him closely.

"Yeah." Dean nodded to the stove. "Sit. I'll get it."

"No, I'll do it, idiot." Sam scowled at him. "I'm not the one who got used as pincushion. You sit."

Dean raised his hands in defeat and lowered himself into a chair at the little table. Sam set a steaming bowl in front of him and if his hand shook a little, Dean let him have it and said nothing. He dug into the soup and made happy noises that had Sam smirking by the time he sat down with his own. "Dude, that woman can cook!"

Sam took a tentative spoonful and then smiled, taking another. "Wow this is good." His stomach that thirty seconds before hadn't wanted anything to do with food was now begging for more. It warmed him down to his toes, dispelling the last of the cold that was hanging on to him and he sighed happily.

Dean made a mental note to send Theresa a freakin fruit basket or something as he watched Sam settle. "So, before everything went sideways, Jack gave me the files we asked for." He nodded to the coffee table.

Sam rose and grabbed them, bringing them back to the table and flipped it open while he ate. "You want the staff or the guests?" He asked and Dean snorted.

"Neither but gimme the guests I guess." Dean pulled over the thick stack of files Sam pushed his way. "We need to find the bastard that broke in here. I gotta few things I wanna give him." Dean cracked his knuckles with an evil grin.

"Hey, where's my laptop?" Sam hadn't seen it on the coffee table where he'd left it. "You move it?"

"Huh? No." Dean twisted around to look and hissed in pain, stopping mid-motion. "Crap."

Sam smirked. "You. Sit. I'll look." He stood and searched the living area then the bedroom and came back out with a frown on his face. "Dean, it's gone. Someone's taken it."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean slapped a fist into the table. "This guy is just pissing me off."

"I'll see if I can use Jack's computer." Sam thumped back into his chair, running an irritated hand through his hair. "Let's see if we can narrow the list of suspects first." He pulled the stack of staff over, straightening the pile from where it had toppled and together, they went through each person looking for anything suspicious.

"Too bad this place doesn't have security cameras." Dean commented, leaning back and rubbing his aching stomach carefully. "Would have made pegging our mystery guest a lot easier."

"I get Gallagher going after housekeepers and groundsmen but why'd he kill Sarah?" Sam asked generally. "I mean, the groundskeeper that started all this was a guy. She doesn't really fit the profile."

"Unless she knew something." Dean raised his brows at him. "Maybe Sarah saw something or heard something she wasn't supposed to and whoever summoned Casper had to get rid of her."

"We need to talk to Dickie." Sam told him. "Seriously man, he's all over this place and he always seems to know when Gallagher's up to something."

"Huh. Good idea." Dean nodded and stood. "Ok, you go find Jack's computer, get some background on our short list." He patted the now short stack of possibles they'd agreed on. "I'm gonna go take a walk on the beach." He smiled. "See if I can get Dickie to come out for a chat."

"The beach?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Hey, you said that's where he first popped up right?" Dean shrugged. "Good a place as any to get his attention."

"Right, and it wouldn't have anything to do with the Luau going on over there." Sam grinned, hearing the faint music once again on the night air. Dean gave him a lopsided grin and shook his head.

"Nope." Dean went to the bedroom and pulled a fresh shirt from his bag, pulling it on with a few pained grunts.

"Dude, I don't think you should be walking around right now." Sam watched Dean walk back out, hand to his stomach and slightly hunched.

"I'm fine, Sammy. It's really not that bad." Dean smiled, trying to reassure him. "You just make sure you watch your back and…stay the hell away from freezers ok?"

Sam gave a short laugh and grabbed the files from the table. "Yeah. No argument there."

They walked together up the dimly lit paths to the hotel, Sam slowing his stride to match his brothers'. He could see the lines of pain etched around Dean's eyes and the lethargy that was waiting to steal over him. "Dean…"

"I'm good, Sammy." Dean cut him off. "Dude, I'm gonna be on a beach…with freakin hula dancers. I'll be fine. I promise not to jump in with the…what do they call 'em? Fire Dancers?"

Sam chuckled at the mental image. "You know I wouldn't put that past you." He gave Dean a highly amused face. "I mean, fire's like catnip to you, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Fire's awesome. I can't help that." He grinned and followed his brother into the back of the hotel and through the halls, into the lobby. "Fine, I promise not to set anything on fire just because. Go on and be careful." Dean waved Sam toward the offices and continued on out the front of the building and toward the beach.

He followed the white, shell lined path through the palms and onto the black sands that at night, in the moonlight seemed to glow as Dean walked slowly. The Luau was in full swing though there were only twenty or so guests and perhaps an equal number of staff. The Resort felt a lot emptier than it had earlier in the day which, for him and Sam and the job was not a bad thing. His mouth watered in ecstasy at the scent of a whole pig roasting over an open pit and he hoped he could get quick answers out of Dickie. He wanted some of that pig.

Dean wandered away from the mellow partiers and outside the ring of light cast by torches wedged into the sand. "Dickie." Dean said softly, eyes down the beach on the people. "Hey, Dickie, we need to talk." He really didn't know if it would even work, if the ghost would even hear him. "Come on, man. Don't leave me standin' here." Dean groaned lightly, bending over his stomach and the ache that wouldn't stop.

"Dude you should be in bed or something."

Dean jumped and whirled to find the surfer's ghost watching him with a small smile. "Geez man, rattle a chain or something." Dean growled and Dickie laughed.

"Do ghosts even do that?" Dickie asked and smiled, looking out to the moon lit waters of the ocean, dark and inky in the night.

"Naw, that's just for Hollywood." Dean straightened and gave him a smile. "I wanted to thank you. You've saved my little brother's bacon twice now. That matters, man."

"Hey, I been tryin' to watch out for the guys, you know?" Dickie looked back to Dean, an unhappy look on his face. "No one deserves that lolo ghost messin' with them like that."

"Yeah, about that." Dean gestured to the Luau and the resort in general. "Anything you can tell me might help us track down who summoned him? Cause dude, someone started all this and we need to stop it before someone else dies."

Dickie nodded. "I don't know who did it man but I know when and where."

"Nice! That'll help." Dean grinned.

"Was in the woods behind the resort. I was watching Sarah walk back to her bungalow and I heard this weird chanting, yeah? So I followed it into the woods." He shrugged. "Wasn't no one there by the time I got there but there was a fire and a weird smell and Gallagher. Dude he was pissed."

"No shit." Dean scowled. "Can you show me where he was summoned? I can banish his ass from there."

Dickie shook his head. "Nope."

"What?" Dean looked in surprise and Dickie smiled at him.

"Dude you'd never make the walk." Dickie pointed to his stomach and the spots of blood appearing on Dean's shirt. "You're messed up. I show your bruddah though."

"Dammit." Dean pulled his shirt up and peeled the edge of the bandage back. He hadn't popped any stitches but he had pulled a few and they were seeping blood. "Okay, okay. Let's go get Sam."

Dickie's head turned toward the resort hotel, a frown on his face. "Uh oh. Dude you better hurry. That Gallagher's up to something again."

"Ah shit. Sam!" Dean turned away from the beach and started into a painful jog. The music from the Luau was loud enough no one would hear anything, just like the night Sarah had died and that made his blood run cold. Whoever was giving Gallagher his killing orders was using it as a cover. "Dickie, warn him." Dean gasped in labored breaths. "Please." Dickie vanished from his side and Dean hoped he was going to give Sam a head's up. He pressed his left hand hard into his stomach and put on more speed. He needed to reach Sam and fast.

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_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER 7** _

Sam pulled his lockpicks from his pocket and bent to the door of the offices. He turned the knob and frowned; it was unlocked. "Huh." He pushed the door open and eased inside with a last look around the empty lobby. "Hope you don't mind, Jack." Sam said with a smile as he entered the Manager's office and closed the door. Jack's computer waited on the shelf behind his desk and Sam pulled the chain on the little lamp beside it.

"Okay, now where'd you put the computer?" Sam asked, seeing only the monitor. He followed the cord from the back of the monitor, bending over the back of the shelf to see where it went. He knelt in front of the cabinet underneath and found it locked. "Dude, you leave the office unlocked but not the computer?" Sam said and chuckled. He took his picks back out and slid them into the little lock, smirking when it opened in a matter of seconds. He slid the door open and sat back, stunned.

"What the hell?" Sam said softly. He reached into the cabinet and pulled his laptop out from where it leaned against the side of the computer tower. He sat back in the chair holding his laptop, just staring at it. "Not good." Sam set the laptop on top of the desk and reached down, turning on Jack's computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he began to search the desk. It too was locked and he easily jimmied the drawers open but there was little to find that was out of place. He glanced at the computer and turned back to it.

"Ok, Jack. Tell me there's a good reason why you have my laptop." Sam muttered, trying and failing to not be suspicious of the guy who'd called them in in the first place. Sam dug through the files and spotted one, opening it. "Dammit, Jack. You stupid son of a…"

The temperature in the room dropped. Sam lurched up from the chair, turning to find Gallagher floating behind him on the other side of the desk. He didn't even have time to reach for his salt before the ghostly hands were at his throat.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

"Sam!" Dean ran into the empty lobby, stomach screaming pain at the abuse he was giving it and he took a second to lean on the door and catch his breath. "Sammy!" Dean shouted and lumbered to the Office door and inside. "Dammit, Sam you answer me!"

"He's gone." Dickie's voice echoed out to him from the direction of Jack's office and Dean threw the door open to find the ghost waiting sadly for him.

The office was empty; no Sam and no Gallagher but Sam's laptop sitting on top of the desk dropped a cold stone into the pit of Dean's stomach. "Son of a bitch." There was a PC on a shelf behind the desk and a small curl of smoke eased from its cracked screen. "I'm gonna kill him." Dean growled and turned, intent on finding Jack.

"Dean. Sam's in the woods." Dickie stuttered into view ahead of the rage filled Hunter. Dean stopped, no longer feeling the gnawing pain in his gut.

"Is Jack with him?" Dean asked, voice painfully low; dangerous and changed his direction to leave the back of the hotel.

"I don't know." Dickie shook his head. "This isn't cool, man." He said softly and vanished again.

"Great. Now I gotta comb the damn rainforest myself?" Dean strode out and through the warm night, listening to Luau music at his back. He all but ran to their bungalow, ducking inside and dragged out the weapons bag. He slid his Desert Eagle into his back, took up the sawed off and filled his pocket with rock salt rounds. From their Dad's old journal he took out a banishment spell they'd used on summoned ghosts before and tucked that in his shirt. When he found Gallagher he was going to make sure the bastard couldn't come back for more.

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Sam groaned and tried to roll off his aching back and found he couldn't. He shot his eyes open and struggled against the bonds he could now feel binding him to the rough bark of a massive palm. The bark was tearing the skin of his back as he tried to find some give in the ropes but there was none. A gag cut across his mouth making breathing difficult through an already abused throat. He could still feel the suffocating grip of Gallagher's ghostly hand around his neck, it was the last thing he remembered as his air was cut off and the world had started to spin and go black around him.

He looked glassily about him now and blinked into the dancing flames of a bonfire mere feet away. Gallagher's ghost prowled just beyond it; pacing back and forth as though incensed and his eyes riveted to Sam. The intent was clear in the spirits eyes; he wanted to kill Sam as he'd killed Sarah. Sam struggled harder, ignoring the pain burning into his back through the thin fabric of his coverall. He needed to get out of there. He twisted his wrists inside the ropes, hoping to feel them loosen and then jerked his head back with a thump when Jack suddenly stepped in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am." Jack said, a sad expression on his face. "You and your brother were never supposed to figure it out. I just wanted you to come in and get rid of Gallagher. I really did." Jack looked nervously over his shoulder then back to Sam. "I can't figure out how to get rid of him. You saw them, didn't you? The files?" He asked and tapped Sam's temple. "My Dad wants me to run this damn resort forever but I just wanna do something else, you know? I mean, Hawaii's awesome and all but there's gotta be something else out there but he won't listen to me!"

Sam shouted around the gag, trying to speak and Jack sighed. He reached up and put his hands to either side of Sam's head. "Look I'm gonna take this out. No one's gonna hear you if you shout. Seriously. The Luau music's too loud." Jack pulled the gag out and stepped back as Sam coughed and tried to get moisture back into his mouth.

"Jack." Sam's voice was little more than a whisper through his abused throat. He tried again. "Jack, look, I get it, I do." Sam was close to begging for a drink of water. "I had the same problem with my Dad…wanted me to follow the family business."

"And how'd that go for you?" Jack asked, a wry smile on his lips.

"Look I did leave, Jack. I got out." Sam told him vehemently. "You could too. You could just walk away but this…this isn't the way to get out. You've killed people!"

"No! I haven't killed anyone!" Jack argued, denial clear in his voice. "That was the ghost! I swear! I only told him to scare people off, just you know, hurt a few people, shut down the resort but Sarah…" Jack's voice trailed off and he stared at the ground. "I swear I didn't want her dead."

"Too late for that now." Sam said and shook his head. "Jack you can still stop this. Just…let me go. Let us banish him and we can fix this."

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's gone too far." Jack stepped up to him and replaced the gag, forcing Sam's head still when he tried to jerk it away. "I don't really have a choice now and honestly? Sarah dying is doing what everything else wasn't! People are leaving! The resort's losing money!" He stepped back, ignoring the muffled pleas from Sam. "It's working, Sam. I figure with your death…and I'm really really sorry about it I swear, but with you the place will have to shut down completely."

Sam glared death at Jack, all sympathy for him gone as the young man turned to face the stalking ghost. He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his white shorts and began reciting something in Latin from it. Sam pulled harder at the ropes around his wrists; his time was running out. He recognized some of the words in the spell; Jack was giving it an order to kill. He felt the skin on his wrists abrade and tear, felt warm blood begin to trickle down his arms. He twisted all the harder as Jack finished the spell and turned, saying Sam's name.

"Caedere Samuel Winchester." Jack said and pointed dramatically at him before stepping back, away from the bonfire and the spirit as it turned with purpose and a malevolent grin.

Sam shouted against the gag, trying to form the words of a banishing spell but the fabric, his dry mouth and the swelling of his throat all worked against him. He could do nothing but watch as Gallagher came for him. He pulled harder as he felt his blood slicked wrists begin to slip in the tight bindings, eyes wide as Gallagher reached for him.

A shotgun blast echoed through the night air and Gallagher dissipated with an angry scream. Sam felt rock salt pelt along his chest and closed his eyes.

"Jack you son of a BITCH!" Dean bellowed as he came into the clearing, stumbling out of the treeline. Sam opened his eyes and grinned around the gag. Jack did not know who he had screwed with.

Dean took in the scene in a flash. Sam was tied to a wide Palm, bloodied hands above his head and a gag silencing him and all Dean saw as he glared at Jack's stunned face was red. He marched up to the younger, shorter man and flipped the shotgun around, smashing the wood of the stock ruthlessly into his temple. Dean watched with satisfaction as Jack fell to the ground in a heap. He gave him a parting kick to the ribs and went to his brother.

"Hey, Sammy. Hangin' around as usual." Dean grinned up at him and took his knife from his belt. He reached up and then doubled over as the move spurred a stab of pain through his stomach. He thumped his head against Sam's chest for a minute, breathing heavily. "Shit. Gimme a sec." He felt Sam shift under his head, heard him mumble something around the gag and pulled himself together. He leaned back and reached his left arm up more carefully, placing the blade against the rope above Sam's wrists and sawed at them. "You ok?"

Sam nodded, eyes narrowed. He saw the widening blood stain on Dean's shirt and wanted to get him horizontal before he did something worse to himself. He squinted his eyes shut in pain as Dean's sawing motion drove the fibers of the rope deeper into his wrists and tried to resist the urge to squirm; his back was already shredded he was sure from the sharp palm bark at his back. He felt the rope give and as his arms dropped Gallagher reappeared behind his brother. Sam scrabbled fingers at the gag and finally took Dean's shoulders and turned him bodily.

"Shit!" Dean cursed and raised the gun again but Gallagher was faster. He swept the firearm from Dean's hands and threw him perilously close to the blazing fire.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, finally pulling the gag free. He dropped to the ground and found Dean's knife, working quickly to free his legs from the rope. He stumbled to his knees as it broke apart under the blade and looked up to find Jack standing over him with a knife and a manic look in his eyes. "Jack…"

Sam thought to talk him down but Jack was beyond listening. One half of his face was covered in blood from the butt of the shotgun and he drove the knife down towards Sam's throat. A small, white blur erupted off the ground, slamming into Jack's face in a fury of hissing and spitting. Sam watched in awe as Spartacus threw himself at Jack, latching all his claws into the man's face and diverting the knife. Sam rolled away as Jack wrestled the cat, screaming and ran to his brother.

Dean lay beside the bonfire gasping as Gallagher drove a ghostly hand into his stomach. He arched his back in agony. Sam dove to him, scooping the shotgun from his lax hand and fired into the ghost with a shout. "Dean!" Sam bent over him and pulled his now blood soaked shirt away from his stomach. "Dean?" He didn't answer. Sam pressed his hand against the newly opened wound and looked around in surprise as Jack cried out and stumbled toward them.

Sam bent over Dean to protect him and grunted when Jack's legs slammed into his side. The man cried out and Sam looked up in time to see him tumble into the fire with the cat. "Shit!" Sam exclaimed. Sparks exploded from the fire as Jack fell into the heart of it and screamed in earnest. He took Dean under his shoulders and pulled him quickly out of harm's way. "Hang on, Dean. I'll be right back."

Sam ran to the edge of the blaze and jumped in surprise when Spartacus emerged, smoking along one side of his body. He shook his head at the surprising cat and tried to find some way to reach Jack. His screams had died, one leg flopped closer to Sam and out of the direct flames. Sam grabbed hold of his ankle, swallowing hard at the feeling of crisped skin beneath his hands and pulled the man out and away. He turned Jack over, grimacing at the state he was in; his hair was gone, most of his clothes were burned away and the black skin beneath didn't bode well for his survival. Sam left him there. He'd done his moral duty and Dean needed him; he just couldn't make himself feel deep concern for Jack, not even in his current state. He'd made his own decisions and was now paying for them.

"Dean." Sam knelt slowly at his side, his back screaming at him and put his hand over the bleeding wound in Dean's stomach again, applying pressure to stop the flow. Dean groaned, hissed and blinked pain filled eyes open at him.

"S…Sammy." Dean turned his head away and reached into his shirt, coming out with a piece of paper. "Banish…"

"Ok, Dean. I'll do it." Sam took the paper. "Just lay still." He set the shotgun down and took the paper, unfolding it awkwardly with one hand, unwilling to remove his other and let the bleeding continue. He smiled when he saw what it was; the same Banishment spell he had tried to say earlier while gagged. Speaking it here, where Gallagher had been summoned in the first place would send him back to wherever he'd come from. Sam began the Latin again, working hard to speak clearly around his abused throat. As he reached the last few words, Gallagher flickered into sight a few feet away, rage suffusing his face. He screamed as he was dispersed for good, sent back into the ether and Sam sagged with relief.

"He's gone, Dean." Sam told his brother and watched worriedly as Dean's eyes fluttered closed. "Dean? Dean stay with me." Sam looked around the clearing in a panic. They were too far away from the hotel. No one would hear him and he didn't think he could risk leaving Dean on his own in this condition. "Dammit!"

"Hey Sam." Dickie's voice startled him as he appeared a few feet away, bending over to look at Jack's pathetic form. "Don't worry. I got help."

Sam deflated, hunching over Dean's still form. "Thank you." It felt odd to be reliant on a ghost but Dickie was revising his opinion of spirits in general; though he had a feeling Dickie was one of a kind.

"Don't stress, dude. Help be here any second." Dickie smiled at him. "This dude though." Dickie shook his head at Jack. "I don't think he's gonna be needing it." Dickie flickered away as voices sounded in the forest. Moments later Theresa and the Doctor emerged and gasped at the sight that awaited them.

"We're gonna need more help." Theresa said and turned back, shouting to someone behind her. "Go get more help, Al! These guys aren't gonna carry themselves." Theresa turned back and went to the brothers while the Doctor knelt sadly by Jack.

"You boys sure do know how to find trouble." Theresa said and she lowered her ample self to kneel at Dean's head. "I'm not sure I wanna hear what went on here." She put a gentle hand to Dean's forehead and smiled. "Don't you worry. Doc'll fix him right up again and you." She pushed a finger into Sam's shoulder. "How'd you manage to make your back look like burger meat?"

Sam dropped his head, the various pains and aches and exhaustion catching up to him. "You really don't want to know." He told Theresa and waited patiently for the Doctor to come help his brother.

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_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**_EPILOGUE_ **

Sam squirmed on his bed. He was stuck lying face down without a shirt while both the Doctor and Theresa fussed over the mess he'd made of his back. The Doctor had summarily had them moved into the Resorts hotel where he could be closer to his patients. That was the downside. The upside was they had their own beds and Dean was propped up on a mountain of pillows in his, snarling at every wince and moan Sam made because he wasn't the one taking care of his little brother.

Theresa turned and cuffed Dean lightly up the side of the head. "Boy, close your eyes and get some sleep or I'll drug the next bowl of broth I bring you." She glared at him while he stared at her amazed and then he chuckled.

"Yes, ma'am." Dean eased further down in the pillows but kept his eyes on Sam. "How you doin', Sam?"

Sam gasped when the Doctor pulled another piece of bark from his back. "Peachy." He said, breathless. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the well-meaning torture being perpetrated on him.

"Almost done, Sam." Doctor Warner patted the back of his shoulder lightly. "How's your throat?"

"Fine." Sam said softly. The ache in his neck from being strangled had slipped into the background as the Doctor worked. Of course, once he was asked about it he could feel it again and swallowed harshly.

Doctor Warner sighed and gave a pointed look to Theresa who smirked. "Right." She quickly left, humming happily.

Dean groaned from the other bed and Sam cracked one eye open to see him trying to roll to his side. Doctor Warner stood from Sam's side with an irritated huff. "Now Dean, if I'd known you were going to be this much trouble I'd have left the two of you in the same damn bed. Lay…still."

Dean grumbled but let the Doctor push him gently back. "If you pull my stitches a second time I'm not putting them back." He said sternly but smiled to take the sting out of it. "Isn't that pain killer kicking in yet?

"Sorry, Doc." Dean said on a groan and nodded, letting his eyes shut. "It's just…haven't trusted a lot of people lately."

"Well I can certainly understand that in…your line of…work." Doctor Warner waited until Dean's breathing began to even into sleep before going back to Sam. He saw the boys hazel eyes watching his brother and rolled his eyes. "Don't make me lecture you as well. Stay down." He sat back on the bed and took his tweezers back up. "Still a few pieces of bark wedged in here." How Sam was managing to stay still and not scream was beyond him. His back had been torn to ribbons on the palm bark; long angry tears in the skin ran from shoulder blades to hip.

Sam focused on the sound of Dean's even breathing feet away while the Doctor finished, disinfected and covered his back in gauze. He never wanted to see Dean with that much blood coming out of him again, twice in as many days was enough. He ruthlessly quashed the urge to cough; he didn't think his sore throat could take it and the Doctor would shove some nasty drink on him he was sure.

He slit his eyes open when the door opened and saw Theresa returning with a cup in her hand. She gave a fond glance to Dean, who was now lightly snoring and pulled a chair with her. She lowered her ample frame into it by Sam's head and smiled. "Now, Sam. This should make that throat of yours feel better."

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, amused. Doctor Warner wasn't the only one he had to worry about. Theresa pulled a straw from her apron and angled it so he could sip from his prone position.

"I'm fine." Sam said, voice raw and scratchy and Theresa chuckled.

"Much as I love a man with a bedroom voice, son even yours isn't supposed to be that deep. Drink." She put the straw against his lips and waited.

"Fine." Sam sighed and sucked lightly on the straw. The liquid that hit his mouth was warm and sweet. As he swallowed it eased down his throat soothing the ache and scratchy feeling. His eyes widened in appreciation and then surprise when the heat rolled back up his throat making him wheeze out a breath.

Theresa laughed. "My grandma's recipe. Adults only." She winked at him as his face reddened from the alcohol in the drink and he gave her a grateful smile.

"That feels…feels better." Sam grinned. "What's in there?" Dean would love it, he knew. Theresa laid a finger on the side of her nose and winked again.

"Family secret, Sam." She set the cup on the nightstand and moved so the Doctor could get a better look at him.

"Just gave you a painkiller, Sam." Warner smiled at the surprised look. "Yeah you didn't notice while you were wheezing on Theresa's special tea." He chuckled. "I expect the both of you to be out for hours and to keep each other in bed where you need to be. I'll be back to check on you later." He patted Sam's arm and dropped another pat on Dean's foot as he passed out of the room.

"Don't worry. We're not leaving you alone." Theresa smirked and a white blur streaked into the room, leaping on to Dean's bed. Spartacus paused to give a content look at Sam before making himself comfortable in the hollow of Dean's shoulder, watching the room for all the world like an attack cat. He was bald of hair down one side and looked ridiculous.

Sam laughed, blurred by the eighty proof tea and the painkiller. "He ok?"

"My hero." Theresa chuckled. "Found him while we were moving you boys out of the woods. It'll grow back." She scratched between the cats ears until he purred. "He'll be staying with me when you boys leave. Resort could use a champion don't you think?" She chuckled and left them alone.

Sam began to drift slowly to sleep and then jerked awake. "Crap." He hadn't thought to ask anyone about protecting the room and he knew Dean hadn't done it. There was no way he was leaving them vulnerable, not even to Dickie. He tried to decide what was going to be more painful and ended sliding his legs over the edge of bed so he was kneeling on the floor leaning against it. "Ow." Sam breathed and used the bed to pull himself upright. He couldn't hunch over and he couldn't stand up straight and was left somewhere between the two, trying desperately not to move too much.

He shuffled away from the bed and said a silent thank you to whoever had left their duffel on the table rather than the floor. After several curse filled minutes at the door and the window he was glad his brother wasn't awake to watch him and store the moment up for later harassment. He dropped the salt canister onto the table and then just leaned on it, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to swallow the burning pain across his back. He jumped with a pained exclamation and looked down to find Spartacus twining about his ankles. The cat looked up and gave him a definite prow that made Sam laugh.

"Right. Let me guess. Get back in bed?" Sam chuckled at himself and the cat and wobbled back to his bed. He crawled carefully back in, laying down with his face in the pillow as he felt the artificial lassitude of the painkiller begin to work through him. He closed his eyes on the vision of the white cat making itself at home beside Dean once more with a satisfied expression.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

The sound of the helicopters blades slicing through the air was enough to put Dean's teeth on edge as they neared the clearing outside the resort. Doctor Warner drove the golf cart for them, Dean beside him and Sam behind grunting painfully at each bump and jolt as it jarred his healing back. The two extra days they'd spent in the quiet room and on the beach healing had been something of a miracle for them both. Dean felt refreshed in a way he hadn't in…in as long as he could remember. He felt the familiar tension beginning to steal into him as they neared the helicopter and the return to what passed for normal for them. He jumped when he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder and turned to find his little brother smiling at him.

"We can always come back, you know." Sam said quietly. "Even Winchesters should get to take a vacation once in a while."

"Outta my head, Sammy." Dean told him with a grin and shake of his head.

Doctor Warren stopped the cart at the edge of the trees and let them climb out. "Well Sam. Dean. It has certainly been…memorable having you both here." He shook each of their hands and smiled. "I'm glad you were here to stop Jack. Who knows how many more he would have allowed to die if you hadn't stopped him."

"Well give the cat a beer then." Dean chuckled. "From what Sam says the furball's the one who stopped his crazy ass." Dean ignored the snicker he heard from his brother and the knowing smile on the Doctors' face. No way was he going to confess to actually liking the damn cat.

"Hmmph. Right. I'll pass that on to Theresa." Doctor Warren gave them a warm smile and climbed back in the cart as Dean unloaded their duffles. "Safe trip boys!" He called and wheeled away back into the trees toward the resort.

"Dean." Sam elbowed his arm and pointed. Dickie had appeared and was walking toward them with an easy smile.

"Hey dudes!" Dickie grinned at each of them. "Came to see you off. Gonna seem dull for a while without you guys stirring things up."

Dean chuckled. "I hear you have plenty of fun on your own."

Dickie laughed in the pre-dusk air. "Not on my own anymore, dudes." He looked back into the trees and Sam gasped.

"Holy crap." Sam breathed as Sarah's ghost walked slowly out and to Dickie's side, a shy, confused smile on her face. "Sarah?"

"Whoa. This place is starting to get crowded." Dean said and instinctively slid a hand into his duffel and around the butt of the shotgun, just in case. "You uh…you in there?"

"She's good, dude." Dickie smiled widely and slid a ghostly arm around her shoulders. "Must be something about this place."

"I'm as surprised as you are." Sarah's voice came softly; hesitantly. "Dickie's been…explaining things to me."

"I keep her on the straight, boys. Don't you worry." Dickie nodded.

"Huh." Dean slid his hand out of the bag and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He gave Dickie a firm look. "You make sure we don't get called back here cause of you. I don't wanna have to gank you, Dickie." He smiled. "I kinda like you."

Dickie laughed. "No worries, braddah. Aloha!" Dickie gave a short wave, Sarah with him and the two flickered away into nothing.

"Wow." Sam blinked and then smiled. "Guess what they say is true."

"What's that?" Dean asked as he hefted their bags and hobbled toward the waiting deathtrap….helicopter, with Sam beside him.

"Once you come to Hawaii you'll never leave." Sam said with a grin and then put both hands on Dean's back, forcing his resisting brother up and into the helicopter.

"Dude, there's gotta be a boat." Dean argued and then scowled all the harder seeing the same pilot from their trip in. "Bite me." Dean said to the man as he laughed.

"Suck it up you big baby." Sam chuckled and sat carefully, leaning forward.

"What was that?" Dean asked and then stretched an arm out, pushing Sam back into the seat with a soft thump.

"Shit!" Sam cursed as Dean pulled his seatbelt around.

"Wouldn't want you flying without this, smartass." Dean said, an innocent grin on his face as a sweat broke out on Sam's face and he tried to take the pressure off his back.

"You…are such a jerk." Sam said, teeth gritted.

Dean patted him on the head and fastened his own belt, feeling better as Sam glared at him. "Suck it up, bitch boy. Time to fly."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_The end_


End file.
